


Nine Lives

by MaverikLoki



Series: Mortality [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Loki Does What He Wants, Lokitty, M/M, Romance, Slash, Snark, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 44,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/pseuds/MaverikLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a magic mishap, Loki finds himself temporarily stuck in the form of a cat. Tony's beginning to think he might be more of a dog person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [Nine Lives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/499713) by [Vesper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesper/pseuds/Vesper)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [九条命 (Nine Lives)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661320) by [Sacha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacha/pseuds/Sacha)



> A/N: Inspired by the following prompt:
> 
> _After the movie Loki falls to Midgard, and for whatever reason (Guilt, magic mess up, etc.) He turns into a cat and sulks about, when he's found by Pepper and given to Tony as a birthday gift (Because she's convinced he needs company spending all that time in his workshop). At first, like any cat and because he's stubborn, he just hides under furniture and hisses at anyone that tries to be nice to him, but then he starts to warm up to the two, mostly Tony. It can end up slash (Loki develops feelings for Tony in cat form?) Or can just be the antics of Kitty!Loki while he's livingwith Tony. Whatever you can give me!_
> 
> _Bonus: Tony and Pepper are best friends, nothing more.  
>  Bonus 2: Loki messes with Tony by knocking over/destroying stuff, because he would totally do that.  
> Bonus 3: Tony actually ends up naming him Loki._
> 
> In my other Avenger-related fics, I was pleasantly surprised by the chemistry between Tony and Loki and decided that I needed to write something that focused on the two of them. This is a bit out of my comfort zone, since romance is not my usual genre of choice, but I thought the practice might do me good.
> 
> This will involve slash between Loki and Tony (no more dancing around it like in _Like Poison_ ), and if that squicks you in any way, well – with all due respect – I don't want to hear it. It's a matter of preference, and I understand that, but, well, this happens to be mine. ;)
> 
> note: The Horseman is an OC, just to move the plot along, so just go with it.

A less experienced mortal would say that he was hiding. An outright foolish mortal would say that he was cowering.

Loki would say that he was using his resources.

He made a pathetic sight, currently in the form of a black cat with green eyes, thin and limping, with rainwater plastering his fur to his skin. His magic was too depleted for him to turn himself back – and he was likely still being followed anyway – so Loki huddled in the doorway of the Avengers' Mansion, knowing his brother would not be there to recognize him and that he could at least count on the resident Avengers to serve as meat-shields against his adversary of the moment.

As for the aforementioned adversary, they called him the Black Horseman.

It was a bit of a misnomer, really, since there was no horse and the “Horseman” was less of a man and more of a creature. Loki liked to blame Hela for this particular abomination, though he was equally to blame, really. He had miscalculated: a necromantic spell was bound to produce a different effect in Helheim, after all, and he should have considered that. But he hadn't, and piecing together the ashes of a mighty fire giant general in the land of the dead had had... unintended consequences.

Still, he blamed Hela for the creature, if only because it was more loyal to her.

And because it now seemed intent on sending Loki to Helheim the more traditional way.

Hela had named him – it – after one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse: Death, the man on a black horse. Technically, the black horseman was thought to represent Famine, but Hela did not take kindly to corrections. She had found Judeo-Christian texts amusing ever since the Christians had named their land of eternal suffering after her. Apparently, she thought she should return the favor.

The Horseman was like a favored pet to her, but Loki could not, for the life of him, remember when he had pissed her off enough for her to unleash the creature on him – and, less importantly, on Midgard in general.

 

_Earlier that day..._

This mortal was a strange one. Loki had thought it would be fun to toy with one of his brother's friends, but, really, he was not sure that all the chatter was worth it.

“Do you ever use those horns as a weapon? You know, like a ram, or something?”

Loki managed to roll his eyes as he dodged the blast from one of Iron Man's rockets.

“I don't know. Do you ever shut up?” Loki snapped.

Iron Man rocketed up and away from a fire ball aimed at his head.

“Sure I do,” he replied as he stabilized in the air, “under the right circumstances, if you know what I mean.” Loki had the impression that, under the mask, Tony Stark was favoring him with an exaggerated leer. The Trickster sighed and twirled a bit of magic around his fingers.

The battle was half-hearted at best, a hair more vicious than Loki's old sparring matches with Thor. Loki had no real interest in _killing_ the mortal – and he suspected that the human had no interest in killing him, either – but even a god had to keep up appearances.

Tony noted Loki's pause and stilled as best he could midair, tilting his head to the side.

“You done yet? You know, I do have some business stuff to take care of.”

Loki scoffed and started twirling the strand of magic in the other direction. “By 'business', you mean that blonde trollop in your car.”

“Uh...” Tony paused. Loki envisioned his sheepish look under the red and gold mask. “Well, yes. _Important_ business, you see.”

“I'm sure.”

“Hey, you know, there are better ways to work up a sweat than throwing missiles at my head!” Again Loki could all but see Tony's leer through the eye holes of the metal suit. “You're welcome to join us, if you like.”

Cheeky bastard. Loki curled his lip in disgust. “You wish.”

Then Loki shot him in the chest with kinetic force. Iron Man grunted, whether from surprise, the impact, or both, and was propelled backward like a missile. Seconds later, there was a low boom in the distance.

Loki chuckled to himself. A strange human, but amusing, and as long as Loki was amused, he wouldn't go around destroying things out of boredom.

The fight was meant to be a diversion, and in the end it distracted him from the real threat.

There was a sound like a hiss of steam, stuttering and percussive like a snake's rattle. The sound, familiar but half-forgotten, sent a shiver up Loki's spine, and he turned to stare into the night. The shadows deepened where the distant glow of city lights could not reach, but Loki could just make out the curl of smoke as it coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form. The creature's hands and face were bone-white and sickly while the rest of him trailed off into wisps of black smoke.

The Black Horseman.

“What do you want?” Loki asked, keeping his face and voice even and impassive.

The creature did not speak – _could_ not speak – but growled and pointed one long, bony finger Loki's way.

“Ah.”

It was difficult to anticipate the attacks of a creature made of smoke. Loki stepped back and started to prepare a teleportation spell when a bone-white hand snared his wrist. Loki's skin reddened and bubbled under the touch, and he smelled burnt flesh before the pain could register. With the flash of searing pain came a pull on his soul, and Loki realized that this creature was siphoning off his magic. When the adjoining skin started to blacken and burn, Loki wrenched his wrist free with a shaky gasp.

The teleportation spell fell from his lips but did not nothing. His magic stirred weakly but would not respond, and Loki staggered back and away.

“Did Hela send you?” he asked, grimacing as he clutched his injured arm.

The Horseman followed him in silence. Loki tried to remember what he had done recently to piss off his daughter.

He did not have enough magic to fight or escape, so Loki instead called upon his natural ability to shape-shift. He thought of something small and quick, like a cat, and darted into the night.

The Horseman followed, but Loki quickly lost him in the darkness.


	2. Home, Sweet Home

The next day, Loki called upon his magic, but it was still too depleted to do anything more than stir feebly. The Horseman was a leech, living off of the life forces of other creatures and, in this case, their store of magic. Loki's magic would return to him with time, but at this rate, he would have to wait for days, maybe even weeks for his magic to build up enough for him to turn back and to have a reserve to defend himself from any further assault.

For the moment, Loki channeled what little magic he had into healing the burnt and decaying flesh of his arm – well, foreleg, technically. He wondered what cats did for food in the city, and balked at the idea of chasing rodents back into their dens. 

He would save that problem for later. Right now, he found that he was terribly thirsty.

There was a bit of rainwater pooled at the base of one of the mansion's gutters. Loki eyed it distrustfully before crouching to lap at its contents. The water felt good against his parched throat, good enough for him to ignore, for a moment, just how degrading this whole situation was.

The click of heels on pavement alerted him to a human presence nearby. It was early, barely dawn, and Loki had thought that he might be able to sulk in silence for a few more hours at least. But then he turned, ears flat against his skull to lock eyes with Pepper Potts. Dressed in sharp business attire, the woman held a styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a pad and pen in the other. The steady click of her heels slowed to a stop a few feet from where Loki crouched, and it was bit strange, craning his head back to stare up, up at her.

Pepper's lips curled up into a soft smile, and slowly, so slowly, she bent to place her coffee, pad and pen on the ground beside her. “Hello, there, little kitty!” she greeted Loki with annoying, babying tones.

She reached for him, slowly still, and Loki growled in the back of his throat. He was used to instilling _fear_ in the hearts of mortals at first glance, not this sort of childish... _glee?_

“It's all right,” she cooed. “I won't hurt you.”

Loki eyed her distrustfully but allowed the pads of her fingers to brush back the fur on his head. In his mind, the gears started to churn. Humans kept cats for pets, didn't they? Perhaps if he acted pathetic enough, he could mooch off of Pepper for a while _and_ make off with some information on the Avengers or at least Tony Stark. 

Yes... this could work.

Loki did what he did best and turned on the charm. When Pepper reached to scratch behind his ears, Loki leaned into the touch, hesitantly at first before nuzzling directly into her hand. Her nails did feel good scratching lightly over his scalp, then his shoulders and back. She paused suddenly and gingerly lifted his injured hand – _paw,_ his injured paw.

“Poor little guy,” she murmured. Loki allowed the touch for a moment and then backed away a step. This was starting to get nauseating.

Pepper glanced over her shoulder for a moment, biting her lip, before picking up Loki in one swift motion. Loki's stomach lurched as she rose to her full height, and he resisted the urge to dig his claws into her eyes. He was somewhat appeased when she scratched under his chin.

“I think I know just what to do with you,” she said, and her smirk was devious enough to give even the god of mischief pause.

 

“What is that?”

“It's a cat, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I see that. But what's it doing here?”

Loki was currently trying his best to be nauseatingly cute. Clean and dry, his leg newly bandaged, he was curled up in Pepper's lap, arching into the light touch of her fingers along his spine and purring. Sitting in a high-backed chair and petting the cat in her lap, Pepper looked like an evil empress. 

Apparently that comparison had flashed through Tony's mind because he was favoring her with a sideways look. Pepper returned the stare for a long moment before giggling. Loki could feel it through her stomach as he eyed Tony Stark imperiously.

“I found him outside the door,” she said, smiling fondly down at Loki. “I made a ton of calls, but no one is looking for a missing cat of this description in the New York area. It _is_ almost your birthday, and I thought you could use a friend.” She smiled innocently at her boss.

Tony stared at her, mouth open like fish. Loki was used to seeing him with a mask obscuring his features, and it was rather fun, watching the raw, naked expressions pass over his face. Tony closed his eyes and groaned.

“Pepper,” he said, his tone tired and long-suffering, “we've been over this. I don't need a pet!”

“I know,” she wheedled, hugging Loki in a way that would earn her a slap later, “but he's just so cute!”

“Then why don't you take him home?”

“My boyfriend's allergic.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at Pepper in a way that he probably thought was commanding. Even Loki knew that he'd be giving in to her demands soon enough.

“Oh, come on!” Pepper said. “You don't want to send him to the pound, do you?”

Tony's scowl wavered. “I am _not_ getting a cat.”

 

“I have a cat.”

Tony said the words like they were a prison sentence. He sat at the table and stared back at the cat sitting on the table.

“So now what? Do you do tricks like a dog or something?”

Loki stared back at the human, wryly amused at the discomfort in his expression and stance. His eyes narrowed in a sort of cat-smile. Disguising himself as Tony Stark's cat was even better than being Pepper's – oh, the mischief he would cause! – but also more dangerous, should one of the other Avengers recognize him. Ah well... the danger was half the fun.

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Suppose I should come up with a name for you, huh?”

_Yes, good luck with that, mortal._

“Pepper wants to name you 'Sprinkles'.”

Loki's ears flattened back against his head.

“Yeah, I don't like it, either,” Tony chuckled. Tony studied him for a long moment and smirked. “Thin with black fur and green eyes.” He scratched a finger under Loki's chin. It tickled a bit, and Loki's tail twitched. “And prissy. You're like a cat version of Loki.”

Loki froze, tensing to bolt. Did the human suspect...?

Tony huffed and stroked his fingers gently down Loki's spine. His dark eyes were soft, almost affectionate, and Loki forced himself to relax. Perhaps their recent battle had merely put Loki at the forefront of his mind?

Tony chuckled wickedly. “Yes, I think 'Loki' suits you. What do you think, cat?”

Loki stared at the human for a long moment, trying to find any hint of suspicion there. When he found none, he nuzzled against Tony's hand to let him know that, yes, he approved of the name.

“Loki it is then. Guess I'll need to get you a litter box and stuff, huh?”

Loki would have furrowed his brow if he could. What was a litter box?


	3. Man-Handled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this story on AO3 here as a request from a reader. The story itself is already fully written and was one of the first "FrostIron" stories out there, to my knowledge. I'm oddly proud of that...?
> 
> Anyway, expect daily updates on the Mortality series until I'm all caught up! Thanks for reading. :)

_Oh, Helheim. How degrading._

Pepper had oh so helpfully brought a disposable litter box, which she had then set up and placed in a corner of Tony's workshop, much to her boss's chagrin. Tony was treating it like a piece of alien technology, poking at its sides with his feet, and Loki was reacting much the same, sniffing at the box distrustfully and whacking at it with one paw.

Loki glared up at his “keepers” as the humans stood over him, waiting, expectant.

_If you expect me to publicly defecate into a box, you are sorely mistaken._

“C'mon, go ahead, kitty.” Annoyingly enough, Tony was starting to adopt some of Pepper's high-pitched, babyish tones when he spoke to Loki.

Loki glared at the man, ears flat against his scalp, before lifting his head and marching off. Even in his normal form, Loki would not have dignified that comment with a response.

Tony and Pepper exchanged uncomfortable glances. “I guess he doesn't have to go,” Pepper offered with a shrug.

 

It took Tony hours to find Loki – the cat, and _boy_ did that amuse him more than it should – after introducing him to his new litter box and cat food, hours that could have been better spent in his workshop or cozying up to some long-legged goddess. If he didn't know any better, Tony would say that the cat had been _insulted_ by the litter box, and he did not want that cat to start peeing in his shoes out of spite or something. Pepper assured him that cats could be picky and moody at times but that Loki would get over it. Tony was beginning to think that he would much rather be a dog person.

When he _did_ find Loki, the cat was under his bed, all glaring green eyes and teeth as he hissed at Tony. The rest of his body blended in with the darkness. 

“Oh, don't give me that,” Tony snapped, at the end of his patience. “Do you want Pepper to throw you back out on the street?”

The cat stopped hissing then. Tony reflected that it probably didn't speak well of his sanity that he was trying to reason with a cat. The look Loki gave him then was really just pathetic. 

Tony's shoulders slumped, and much of his anger evaporated at the guilty look in those green eyes.

“Okay, okay, so I wouldn't _actually_ throw you out.”

Loki mewed softly in response.

“But this would be a hell of a lot easier if you stopped being a pain in the ass.”

This time Loki's meow bordered on a growl, like a cat equivalent to a warning, _Hey_.

Okay, seriously. It was like the cat actually understood what he was saying. Tony shook his head and reached out slowly, cautiously, to pat Loki on the head. The cat stiffly allowed the contact for a moment, though he looked decidedly unimpressed, before sniffing and turning around.

“What are you doing?”

Tony crawled out from under the bed to look at Pepper in the doorway. He let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I think I just got the cold shoulder from a cat.”

 

Tony did not see Loki for the rest of the day or the day after and decided to leave him be. On the third day, some of the food in the cat's dish had at least been poked at. He decided to let Pepper deal with the litter box.

 

By the fourth day, Loki grudgingly realized that his magic would be slow to return and that he had better get used to living as a cat. 

After three days of sulking in the dark corners of the Stark Mansion, Loki decided to occupy himself by exploring the rest of the layout. None of the other Avengers were at the mansion that day, thankfully, so Loki was able to take his time. The place was tastefully decorated in the modern minimalist style, and Loki peered curiously at the high-end, expensive-looking gadgets and appliances. He could not resist poking a few of the shinier buttons and ended up turning on a stereo and making toast without even knowing how. 

A startled and wild-eyed Pepper turned off the stereo and shooed Loki into the basement. Loki suspected she was going to eat his toast.

Loki skittered down the stairs on silent feet, slowing to look around him when he reached the bottom. Last time he came down here, he was too offended by the litter box to take in any details, and now he made up for lost time. Spare parts and half-assembled machinery littered every flat surface, except for a cleared path barely a foot wide that connected each section of the workshop. Compared to the almost sterile spotlessness of the rest of the house, this room was the only one that looked lived-in. 

Loki's ears perked at the sound of muttering nearby.

“Hold still, hold still, hold still!”

_Crash!_

“Dammit.”

Picking his way across the floor, Loki padded towards the voice – Tony's voice – and found the human bent over a desk, fiddling with something small that let off a soft blue light. Loki flinched as the human cursed and threw something behind him. The discarded object landed with a hollow _clang._

Loki crept around the desk until he was next to Tony's foot. He craned his neck to look up at the human and saw his face awash in blue light, his mouth set in a grim line, but could not see what the human was working on.

Loki watched him for a long moment, cloaked in shadow, and marveled at the intense concentration that deepened the lines along the human's brow. Loki wondered if he wore that same expression when he pored over his spell-books. 

He bristled at the comparison, decided he was bored, and swatted at the human's leg to get his attention. Tony twitched and yelped in surprise, turning wide eyes down at the green-eyed menace watching him expectantly. He chuckled softly and put down whatever he was holding.

“Hello there.”

Loki mewed in greeting, earning him a smile from the human. 

“C'mere, you.” 

Tony scooped up Loki and placed him in his lap, one hand holding the cat in place and the other stroking gently down his spine. Loki tensed and growled at the manhandling, but Tony whacked him lightly on the nose.

“None of that now,” Tony admonished gently. Loki stopped growling but still held himself stiffly. Sitting in Pepper's lap had been one thing, but Tony was a _man_ and this was all very untoward and – !

Oh. 

Well then.

Tony's fingers, surprisingly agile, scratched behind Loki's ear just _so_ , and the Trickster shivered, slowly relaxing into the touch. Those fingers moved again, now massaging Loki's scalp with just the right amount of pressure. Loki closed his eyes contentedly and hummed under his breath. The sound translated into a purr, but Loki decided he would be mortified later.

The hand braced against Loki's chest loosened its grip and then fell away to go back to fiddling with the glowing gadget. When the other hand fell away to join the first, Loki opened his eyes and the purr ebbed into silence. In Tony's hands was a round object nearly identical to the one that glowed in the middle of his chest. An “arc reactor”, his brain supplied.

Was Tony planning on replacing the one in his chest with an upgrade or was he making a spare? Either way, Loki filed this information away for later. He knew this arc reactor was a source of great power, and already the gears in his mind were churning over what he could do with one of his own. 

Loki watched the human work for a while, fascinated despite himself, and marveled at the delicate work those hands were capable of. He was used to warriors being large and ham-fisted like his brother, and this more cerebral side of Tony Stark intrigued him for reasons he could not pinpoint.

Loki was Loki, however, and he eventually grew bored. He whacked at Tony's hand to let him know that he did not like being ignored. Tony paused and looked down at the cat in his lap, arching one eyebrow wryly. 

“Pushy, are we?”

Loki innocently returned the stare. Tony sighed heavily, put down the arc reactor, and leaned back in his chair. Those marvelous, clever fingers returned to Loki's scalp, and the Trickster sighed happily and let his eyes slide shut again.

Somewhere, in the decidedly Not-Cat part of Loki's brain, the god wondered lewdly what else this human could do with those hands. 

Loki opened his eyes and studied Tony's face, which was attractive in its own way if he thought about it, with dark eyes and fine bone structure. In another life, perhaps.

Loki closed his eyes and enjoyed the massage.


	4. Adjusting

It was difficult to rifle through classified documents without opposable thumbs, but Loki managed. 

He had been stalking the hallway for this one purpose, waiting for someone to open the office doorway just enough for him to slip inside, unnoticed and unattended. It had been laughably easy, since no one expected a cat to give away their secrets.

For his part, Loki focused on the files dealing with the Avengers, pulling open drawers and batting and tugging aside paper with his paws and teeth. His magic reserve was still too low and too precious to waste on something like this, even if the difficulty of maneuvering in this form was grating on Loki's nerves. The Trickster had never been known for his patience.

Still, he was rewarded for his efforts, even when most of the documents turned out to be encrypted. Loki merely viewed this as a pleasantly stimulating mental puzzle and sat, half on half off the paper, reading and translating for the better part of an hour. The Avengers, it seemed, were currently looking to recruit more members, most prominently a young man named Peter Parker and few of Xavier's former students. Loki read the files on these would-be heroes and filed the information away in the back of his mind.

Then Loki saw a file on himself sticking out of the filing cabinet and crept back towards it, wondering wryly how much or how little these humans really knew about him. His smugness subsided when he remembered that they had Thor as a source.

“Hey! Bad cat!”

The shout and the sharp sound of two hands clapping together startled Loki, and he jumped, tensing to run. When he turned to see Tony stalking towards him from the open doorway, Loki half-feared for a moment that he had been recognized and immediately reached for magic that was not there. Instead the human shot him a half-hearted glare and knelt beside him, sighing as he gathered the papers into their respective folders.

After clearing much of the mess, Tony paused for a long moment to regard Loki. Loki stared back and mewed softly, and Tony's glare softened into that look of grudging affection again. The human sighed and reached out; Loki flinched back, but Tony's hand only lightly stroked down his back and paused to scratch behind his ears.

“How did you even open that drawer, anyway?”

Loki chuckled wickedly but the sound came out as a purr. Tony's smile curled higher at one end.

“You are a strange cat,” he said. Then he shooed Loki out of the room and locked the door.

 

It had been centuries since Loki had gone so long without being able to speak; the last time he had had his lips sewn shut. It was an old memory and an old hurt, but it had seared itself into his brain.

Curled up on the couch, Loki allowed himself to sleep but sleep did not allow him to rest. He dreamed of needles and blood, of a raw, deep-seated humiliation that should have scarred over and stayed in the past. Thor held the needle and _stabbed_ and _pulled_ , but he would not look Loki in the eye. The Thunderer frowned, intent on his task, and the skin around his eyes and between his brows was pinched with something between concern and grief.

 _Brother_ , Loki tried to plead, but the strip of leather pulled painfully at his swollen, bleeding lips. _Please._

The words were mangled by his mangled lips.

His vision blurred with tears until Thor and the rest of the court were merely blurs of color. He could hear the peals of laughter over the throb of his racing heart. 

Stab and pull. He tried to scream, but his lips were bound shut.

 

Loki startled awake, but his scream came out as a cat's howl. He tried to speak, to curse, to say _anything_ , but all that came out were broken mewls. 

What would happen if his magic never returned? Would he be stuck in this body, small and weak and unable to speak? For how long?

Loki wanted to cry and rage, but he was trapped.

He knew he would be unable to sleep for the rest of the night, so Loki jumped down from the couch and padded through the dark, silent halls. If he was miserable, he would damn well make sure that his human “keeper” was miserable too.

Loki pushed his way into Tony's room. Perhaps he could wake the human by digging his claws into his feet. Yes, that would make him feel better.

But Tony Stark foiled his dastardly plans by already being awake. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, the pale glow of the arc reactor making his face look sickly pale. His gaze was unblinking but unfocused, and Loki glanced over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. On the opposite wall hung a mirror, and Tony stared back at it, his dark eyes glazed and haunted. He fingered the arc reactor glowing in the middle of his chest, and there was something painfully lost in his expression. 

Loki knew because he had seen that same expression in the mirror many times before.

 _I do not understand you, human,_ Loki told himself. Except the real problem was that maybe he did.

It seemed that Tony Stark was already miserable. 

Loki jumped onto the bed and sat beside the human, turning to watch him expectantly. Tony blinked and looked down at the cat next to him, the spell broken and his eyes clear and focused again.

“Hey, little guy,” he murmured. His smile did not reach his eyes.

Tony patted Loki's head, and the Trickster flinched away, instinctively expecting an attack. Again he was amazed at the gentleness in the human's touch.

“It's all right,” Tony murmured, and Loki realized that he was as tense as a bowstring. He forced himself to relax as much as he could. Tony was staring at him then with an intensity that made Loki fidget. “You always flinch when I pet you. Someone hurt you bad, huh, little guy?”

Loki looked up at Tony, who seemed to look right through him in that moment. For once, he was grateful he was in cat form since he did not know what to say to that. 

“No one's gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

Loki told himself that the human was a fool for making assumptions and talking to a cat. He pointedly ignored the lump lodged in his throat.

_Would you be so kind to me if you knew who I was, Tony Stark?_

Tony curled up on the edge of his bed and pulled Loki with him, holding him just shy of too tightly with one hand and petting him with the other. Loki tried to wriggle free for a moment, panicking at the closeness, but Tony held him in place. Slowly, Loki forced himself to relax. After so long of viewing this particular human as an enemy, it was difficult, but the hand soothing down his spine helped. Loki could feel the pulse of the arc reactor against his flank, could smell the mix of sweat and engine oil that clung to Tony's skin.

Tony drifted off to sleep with one hand buried in Loki's fur. The lines of his face smoothed over, and he looked peaceful, almost innocent, as he slumbered. Loki studied him as he slept.

It reminded him of when he was child, when he and Thor would sometimes sneak into each other's room in the middle of the night. Thor was always restless, and Loki would tell him stories to pass the time, watching as his brother's eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Loki would lie next to him and watch over him until sleep claimed him too.

Loki tried to remember when he had last been this physically close to another being – without trying to kill them, anyway – and drew a blank. Something ached in his chest, and Loki forced these thoughts into the back of his mind, where they could not hurt him as easily.

Trapped beneath Tony's arm, Loki rested his chin on his paws and closed his eyes. The human's surrounding weight and warmth was solid and comforting, and when Loki drifted back to sleep, he had no more nightmares.


	5. Allegiances

The next morning, Loki awakened to the softness of a cushion beneath him and a warm body against his back. A disembodied voice with a British accent was talking about the weather – something about unexpected thunderstorms in the New York area – and Loki tried to blink the sleep from his eyes.

Trying muzzily to remember how he had ended up in someone else's bed, he yawned and stretched, closing his eyes and arching back into the body behind him. Male, if he went by the flat planes of his chest and the low rumble of his snores. 

Hmm. When was the last time he had taken a male to bed? He didn't feel particularly hung-over...

It was only when he tried to sit up that he remembered.

 _Ah, right_ , he thought wryly. _I'm a cat. Lovely._

Which meant that the snoring, drooling sack of flesh behind him was Tony Stark. Loki jumped up and away, disgusted with himself for spending the night spooning with Iron Man, quadruped or no. 

Tony's snores ended in a grunt, and then his eyes opened to tiny slits. He mumbled something under his breath and then pushed himself into a sit, wiping crusted over bits of drool from his chin. His hair stuck up like a cockatoo, and there were creases in his cheek from where it had pressed against the mattress. Inwardly, Loki smirked.

Tired, puffy eyes landed on Loki, and Tony smiled, reaching out to tousle the fur on his head. Loki ducked away from the hand and glared, rearranging himself until he was sitting in a more dignified position. Tony chuckled.

“Morning, Loki.”

_You snore._

The disembodied voice – Jarvis, right – continued in the background, informing them pleasantly of the football scores from the previous night and of a battle raging in the middle of Central Park. Apparently the Hulk was throwing another tantrum. A normal enough day.

“Shit.”

That was Loki's only warning before his human jumped to his feet and sped out of the room, jostling the bed and almost upending Loki in the process. He hissed after Tony's retreating footsteps.

“...Captain America and Thor are requesting that you join them, if you are not otherwise occupied...”

Loki turned towards the voice almost fast enough to give him whiplash, ears perked as high as they would go. Thor was back in Midgard? 

Damn, damn, damn...!

If Tony went to Thor's aid, there was a better chance that the God of Thunder would come back to the mansion. Of course, chances are he would do so anyway if he was back in Midgard, but Loki was in too much of a panic to really care about that bit of logic. If Thor saw him, the ruse was over.

Loki sped down the stairs after Tony, following the sounds of cursing echoing up from the workshop. The basement floor was cool under his feet, and his heart thudded in his ears almost loud enough to drown out the whir of machinery as each piece of Tony's suit clicked into place. A few strategically placed robots were helping him speed up the process.

 _Stop, you idiot human!_ The shout came out as a long, whiny meow.

Tony spared him a distracted glance. “Pepper will feed you, kitty.”

Loki growled. _Does it look like I'm interested in food right now?_

But Tony's full attention was on his suit. This would be so much easier in Ancient Egypt. They revered cats, like sensible humans. Now that he thought of it, he wondered how Seth was doing. He'd heard all sorts of gossip about those squabbles with his nephew...

Focus, Loki.

 _Damn it, mortal! I am a_ god, _and you_ will _pay attention to me!_

Loki pushed off of his hind legs and launched his tiny body at one of the robots attaching the plates of armor to Tony's arms and hands. He hissed and clawed on some circuitry that looked like it might be important.

“H-Hey!”

Tony turned wide eyes on Loki but dared not move as another robot arm locked his helmet into place. 

“ _Bad_ kitty!” a second voice – Pepper – gasped behind him, and Loki knew that he was defeated. A pair of hands grabbed him about the middle and pulled him away. Loki scrabbled for purchase on the robot, but his claws only grazed metal before he was swinging at air. He hissed and struggled, wriggling out of Pepper's grip and onto the floor. By the time he landed, Tony had already taken off. The roar of his rockets was like a rumble of thunder in the distance.

Loki curled his lip and hissed at Pepper one more time before stalking up the stairs, his tail bushy and twitching angrily.

 

Loki was definitely living up to his name, Pepper decided. She sat on Tony's couch, legs curled under her and her fingers dancing over her laptop's keyboard. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Loki, who was perched on the ottoman in front of her, eyes glued to the TV screen. On the television flashed the local news with live coverage of the three Avengers – Thor, Cap, and Tony – trying to subdue the Hulk, and Pepper thought she was going crazy because she could _swear_ that the cat understood everything that was going in. 

Ten minutes ago she had tried to change the channel –Tony had taken a rather vicious punch to the face, helmet, whatever, and she had _cringed_ and needed a distraction – but the cat had glared and bared his teeth. She had pulled back and scooted to the other end of the couch while Loki had wrapped one paw protectively around the remote.

A little over a week, and the cat was already running the house. What a devious, nasty little thing he had turned out to be.

Still... sometimes, when she scratched behind his ear just right, he would close his eyes and purr as though her hands were the most delightful things in the world. And she had spotted him in the workshop the other day, curled up on Tony's lap. The goofy little smile Tony had worn as he talked to and petted the cat was alone worth the headache.

Now that she thought of it, the fact that he was a little devil made him a perfect match for Tony temperament-wise. She smiled and gave Loki an affectionate, though cautious, pat on the head. The cat did not react but continued to stare at the screen as though his life depended on it.

A moment later, still staring at the TV, Loki started purring. Pepper looked up and saw that the Hulk had dealt Thor a solid blow that had left a crater in the ground. Thor was shaking his head and woozily pulling himself to his feet. Pepper cringed as the Hulk punched him again, but she swore the cat started purring louder. 

Something about that gave Pepper pause. She watched Loki out of the corner of her eye and wondered if – ?

No. That was crazy.

Right?

She could hear Steve trying to say something, probably trying to talk down their friend and former fellow Avenger, and she watched as the Hulk uprooted a tree and used it as a bat. Steve deflected it with his shield but was sent skidding backwards, his feet leaving long twin furrows in the ground. The Hulk swung back around impossibly fast, catching Tony before he could dodge, twisting his neck at an angle that made Pepper gasp, and sending him _through_ a line of trees. 

Loki stopped purring.

Pepper leaned forward, one hand over her mouth as she stared at the screen. Tony lay in a heap on the ground, but the camera panned away before she could tell if he was okay. She cursed loudly, and Loki jumped, turning to stare at her as though only just realizing she was there.

On screen, the Hulk had calmed down. He dropped the tree – the reporter was narrating, annoyingly describing what Pepper could already see – and was saying something likely self-pitying. When he bounded away, the Avengers did not follow him.

The camera panned first to Thor, who watched grimly after the Hulk, and then to Steve, who was helping Tony sit up. Pepper sighed in relief that the idiot was alive, at least, but if she continued working for that man, she would be completely gray in a few years. The camera panned back to the reporter, who segued into another story.

Loki was staring at the floor now, looking bemused – Pepper had not known that a cat could look bemused – and finally unwrapped his paw from around the remote. She watched him for a long moment, and he turned to look at her as though to say, _What, human?_

“He'll be okay,” she said. It was crazy, she knew, but she suspected that, on some level, the cat understood that Tony had been hurt. Or maybe she was just saying that to reassure herself.

Loki stared at her for a long moment, his gaze intense but unreadable. She had never felt a cat see _through_ her before. She wondered with a shiver if, maybe, there was something about Loki – the _real_ Loki – that she should know or needed to remember. 

Loki jumped down from the ottoman and slinked into the basement. When she peeked into the workshop a few minutes later, Loki was sitting at Tony's desk, waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh. I wrote this loooong before seeing the Avengers, and this is the extent to which Bruce appears in this story. The movie gave me a new appreciation for the character, however, so chances are he will appear in the sequel at some point. Clint and Natasha join the fun in the first chapter of said sequel.
> 
> Oh, yeah, I'm writing a sequel to this. Surprise?


	6. Reacquainted

Loki heard the Avengers return long before he caught sight of them. He had dozed without meaning to, and a quick glance at the nearest clock told him that three hours had passed. He would have frowned if he could; where had they been in all that time? Again, Loki cursed his magic's slow return.

Loki's first impulse was to run to the door and see whether or not Tony was in one piece, but he recognized his brother's heavy tread and the muffled boom of his voice and found himself frozen in place. He wondered then _why_ he had had that impulse to begin with. He had given Iron Man some of his more vicious battle scars and hadn't thought twice about them, but he supposed that his priorities had changed now that he was relying on – well, mooching off of – one of his enemies. It wouldn't do for Tony Stark to die while Loki needed him as a meat shield.

Loki supposed that he should hide away in some dark nook while Thor was here, but he could not fight off that gnawing desire to _know_. He crept up the stairs on silent feet and glided down the halls from shadow to shadow, following his brother's unnecessarily loud voice and the more subdued voices of a few other people, footsteps and what sounded like creaking wheels.

Loki peered around the corner to see Captain America, sans mask, steering a wheelchair containing a rather battered but sprightly Tony Stark. Behind them trailed Thor and a resigned-looking Agent Coulson.

“Mr. Stark,” said Coulson, quite marvelously dwarfed by Thor's bulk, “for the last time, if you're not going to stay in the hospital, then at least let me assign someone to look after you while you – !”

Tony flicked his wrist and mimicked the sound of a whip's crack, craning to look at Steve as best he could with a neck brace limiting his movement. “Hyahh!” he shouted. “C'mon, Steve, let's see how fast this thing can go!”

“This isn't a toy, Tony,” Steve said wearily. A smirk twitched at his lips regardless.

“Aw, you're no fun.”

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson pressed.

The parade wheeled past Loki's shadowed corner, and Loki's eyes followed them.

Tony rolled his eyes and waved away Coulson's concern. “Don't worry about me,” he said. “Pepper will take care of me. She's good at that sort of thing.”

Loki suspected that Pepper would give him an earful once those words got back to her. That would be fun to watch.

“Pain-killers are _awesome._ ” Tony's words sounded a bit slurred. Suddenly, it was a whole lot clearer why Tony Stark was in such a good mood.

Inwardly, Loki chuckled, only to wince when the sound came out as a loud purr. At the sound, Thor's eyes met his, and the Thunderer stopped, blue eyes flashing like lightning.

“ _You._ ”

_Shit, shit, shit._

Loki fled back the way he had come with Thor's heavy footsteps in pursuit.

 

“Look what I found hiding in the closet.” Thor's voice was like a rumble of thunder, and Loki could imagine the scowl on his face. He held Loki aloft by the scruff of the neck, and the Trickster hung there like a thief at the end of his noose and awaited his sentence, limbs stiff at his sides.

Arranged stiffly on his bed, Tony shifted his body to look. “Well, Loki was bound to come out of the closet sooner or later,” he said, his words still slurred. This close, Loki could see the mottled bruises that covered the left half of the human's face. Tony fought back a grin for a few moments before a series of giggles bubbled up from his chest. Loki glared at the human, but Tony did not seem to notice.

Twice, Thor sucked in a breath as though to say something only to let the silence lengthen. He looked helplessly at Steve, who shrugged in response.

“You said Loki,” Thor finally said, speaking insultingly slow. 

“Yes,” Tony replied, waving aside the comment. “That is his name, you know.” His eyes glittered wickedly.

Loki stared at Tony Stark and held perfectly still. Did the human suspect – unlikely with painkillers clogging his brain – or were he and Thor holding two completely different conversations?

“I thought...” Thor's mouth worked uselessly again. “How long has he been here?”

“Pepper found him outside about a week ago. He's a bit of a brat but not too much of a hassle. S'been helping me work on a new arc reactor.” The words were spoken with a hint of affection, which seemed to reduce Thor to silence once more.

In his normal form, Loki would be laughing until tears streaked his cheeks. Fate had a bizarre sense of humor.

Tony patted the bed next to his hip. “Put him here,” he said. 

Thor looked at Steve for confirmation, and Cap offered him another shrug. “Are you sure?” Thor asked Tony, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony groused, waving Thor over impatiently. 

Hesitantly, as though afraid that Loki would sprout a scorpion tail at any moment – Loki considered doing just that for old time's sake – Thor placed the cat on the very edge of Tony's bed. Loki glanced over his shoulder and growled at Thor one more time for good measure before sashaying towards the head of the bed and curling up by Tony's hip. The human's hand scratched behind his ear, and Loki purred, staring at Thor the whole while and rubbing salt in the wound.

 

Stark's bed was warm, comfortable, and Loki saw no reason to leave it. He stayed curled by Tony's side as he dozed, kneading his claws into the softness of the comforter and squinting his eyes in a sly cat-smile at anyone who came to visit the incapacitated Man of Iron.

Steve Rogers had made the mistake of trying to pet him, and now the back of his hand was lined with livid claw marks. He had made a face like a kicked puppy that had immediately put Loki in mind of Thor. It had made the exchange twice as enjoyable.

Thor himself came to sit by Tony soon after – Steve had left, mumbling something about cats being the spawn of the Devil – and wore a grim face that indicated he was in lecture mode. The chair creaked under Thor's weight, and Loki blinked complacently up at his brother. Next to him, Tony's snores went up a decibel. 

“I do not know what you are planning, brother,” Thor pitched his voice low in deference to the sleeping human, “but if you hurt him in any way...” Thor trailed off but pointed an accusatory finger at Loki, a warning clear in his expression. 

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes as best he could in cat form. A long, low meow was the closest he could come to saying, _Oh, please._

Thor sat back – his chair groaned in protest – and stared at Loki with what he probably thought was a shrewd expression. Loki rather thought he looked like he was in pain. He folded his paws under him and returned his brother's stare.

After a while, Thor shook his head and chuckled, reaching out to pat Loki on the head. Loki hissed indignantly, irritated at this sudden, universal fascination with touching him; he did not like people invading his personal space as it was. Unlike Steve, Thor did not pull back when Loki swiped at him but merely chuckled again and scratched harder. Loki glared even long after Thor had taken his hand away.

“You are surprisingly patient with the mortal,” Thor noted, tilting his head to the side. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were fond of him.”

Loki bristled at the accusation, and his ears flattened back against his skull. With a regal sniff, Loki rose to his feet and walked to the end of the bed, this time curling up so that his back was to his brother. 

Thor rolled his eyes but smiled.

In the doorway, Pepper exchanged glances with Steve. “He _does_ realize he's talking to a cat, right?” she whispered.

Steve shook his head. “I've stopped asking questions.”

Pepper nodded at the wisdom in that. “I really need a vacation,” she sighed. Steve smiled sympathetically.

“Don't we all.”


	7. Attached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Stuff happens.

The next day, the bruises around Tony's eyes shone an even deeper purple than the night before, making him look haggard. Yet he was all smiles when he looked to see Loki perched at his side, giving him a look that, quadruped or no, told Tony clear as day that he was an imbecile. He patted Loki on the head and smirked at the glare the bit of contact earned him.

“'Morning, Loki,” he mumbled. His voice was sandpaper-rough.

_It's afternoon, you idiot._

This was confirmed when Pepper came in moments later and all but slammed Tony's lunch onto the end table. 

“Oooh, is that filet mignon?” Tony crowed. He poked at the plastic fork next to the steak as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

Pepper stood at his side, her arms crossed and her back and shoulders bowstring-tense. She leveled a glare at Tony Stark that would have made Sif proud. “Yes, it is,” she answered through her teeth. “Try not to choke on it. Too much.”

When Tony looked up at her, it was with wide eyes and a furrowed brow that made him look like a recalcitrant child. Or a puppy that had just pissed on the rug. “What?” he asked, voice innocent, almost whiny.

Loki settled into a more comfortable position and watched the expressions that flit over the humans' faces. Pepper's glare softened and wavered, darting to the side and down, and Loki silently applauded Tony's use of the sad-puppy look, though none could rival Thor in that area. Another glance at the kicked-puppy stare, and Pepper's shoulders slumped, the tension strung between them visually uncoiling.

“Sorry,” Pepper sighed, rubbing her fingers against her forehead. “I've just been worried. You've taken hits before but not like that. Not in a while.”

“Hey,” Tony murmured, sad-puppy look giving way to a lopsided smile. “Even without the armor, my head's too thick even for the Hulk to smash. You know that.”

Pepper smiled wanly. She looked at Tony for a long moment, as though she wanted to say something, before shaking her head. 

Loki glanced back and forth between the two and wondered if there may have been something between them once... or if there was something between them now. He bristled without knowing why. For the first time, Loki felt like an intruder, like an awkward third wheel. For all they knew, he might as well not even be there, and for some reason that galled him. 

This wasn't his life, he reminded himself. He didn't belong here anymore than he had belonged on Jotunheim or Asgard.

“By the way,” Pepper continued, “Bruce called earlier to apologize. He says he was just having 'one of those days' and wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Ah yes,” Tony said wryly. “I remember 'those days' from when he used to stay here. Between him and Thor, I've had to replace so much furniture. This is why we can't have nice things, you know.”

Pepper nodded indulgently, but Loki could see that she was holding back an eye-roll.

With a hollow rattle, Pepper drew out a little orange bottle from her pocket and placed it next to Tony's shrink-wrapped cup of pudding.

“What's this?” Tony grunted.

“It's called medicine. I believe you're familiar with the term.”

Were he in a better mood, Loki would have smiled. As it was, he wanted to claw at the woman's hand for reaching into Tony's personal space. The banter between them, the comfort in each other's presence, just reminded him of all he had lost, all he had perhaps never had.

He wondered what it was like to not be alone.

“They're for the pain,” Pepper clarified. “Take them as needed but no more than two every four hours. And don't touch the steak, yet. It's hot.”

Really? Instructions like that would have made Loki eat the steak right away just out of spite – 

“Really, Pepper, now you just make me _want_ to touch the steak.”

Loki blinked at the human. Had they just...? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sense of “weird”. 

Pepper left, and Loki found himself watching Tony as he ate, studying every bend and twitch of his face. He did not know what he was looking for.

Tony looked back at the cat and tilted his head. “Hi,” he said. 

Loki blinked and looked away, suddenly aware that he was staring. Embarrassing.

“Are you hungry, Lo'kitty?”

 _Is that all you humans want to ask me, and –_ WHAT _did you just call me?_

Again Loki found himself gaping at Tony Stark. The human chuckled, sliced off a tiny piece of steak, and held it out to Loki between his thumb and forefinger. Loki eyed the human suspiciously.

“Don't worry; I didn't cook it myself or anything.”

 _Obviously. You were_ asleep, _fool._

Loki was not sure how he felt about taking food from Tony's hand. Still, it was an improvement from eating what tasted like sawdust out of a bowl. On the _floor._

 _Ugh,_ the indignity!

Yes... yes, this was much more fitting, now that he thought of it. Humans should be fighting over the privilege to hand-feed him. Slowly, Loki stretched out his neck and took the piece of steak daintily between his teeth. He bit into the tender meat and rolled its juices around his tongue, remembering suddenly and forcefully what it was like to eat like a god – or at least a human – and not like some lowly beast. And he was _hungry_! As he swallowed, his stomach gurgled plaintively, and Loki found himself staring at the rest of the steak with wide, greedy eyes. 

Tony chuckled and handed him another piece. Loki chomped at it more eagerly and inched closer until he was practically on top of the human. He did not realize he was purring until he felt its vibrating hum in his chest. 

Tony pet Loki with one hand and ate with the other, pausing every few bites to hand a tiny slice over to the cat.

“Please tell me you are _not_ feeding that cat filet mignon.”

Loki looked up at Pepper in the doorway and had to bite back a growl. Tony was smiling sheepishly. Pepper shook her head in exasperation, but there was a glint of humor in her eyes. 

“Aw, come on, Pepper!” Tony wheedled. “See how happy it makes him?” He pulled Loki to him in a loose, one-armed hug. Loki's ears flattened against his head, and he would clawed his way free or at least stopped purring if his stomach weren't so wonderfully full with steak. “Right, Lo'kitty?”

_Call me that again, and I will claw out your eyeballs._

Pepper sighed heavily. “You realize that he's not going to eat his regular food now, right?”

“Oh, c'mon!” Tony scoffed. “It's just a few bites! Let him live a little.” 

“And if that's all he'll eat?”

“Well, then he has good taste.” Tony handed Loki one last slice and smiled up at Pepper. “Hey. He's _my_ cat, remember?”

Loki did not know why that simple pronoun made his stomach twist in strange ways. He looked up at Tony, at the humor and affection glinting in his dark eyes, and felt his stomach twist even further. He wanted nothing more than to flee from that stare, suddenly, but he... couldn't. 

Tony's hand on his neck sent warm tingles down Loki's spine.

“By the way, while we're on the subject,” Pepper continued, shifting her stance to one more comfortable, “you're going to need to get him fixed.”

Fixed? Was something of him broken? He glanced down, but his foreleg was healing well enough.

“Pepper!” Tony gasped in mock outrage. “Not in front of him!” Tony's hands covered Loki's ears, and the Trickster stiffened. What was going on? He unsheathed his claws, but Tony withdrew his hands the next moment.

“Maybe we can get a two-for-one special,” Pepper sighed. “You could benefit from a little 'snip' yourself.” She gestured accordingly with her fingers and smirked as Tony cringed, drawing into a ball.

Snip? Loki had a bad feeling about this.

“Do not joke about such things, Pepper! But yeah, find a vet and schedule an appointment. We should get him checked out while we're at it. Still no one looking for a cat of his description?”

“No.”

“Good!” Tony's answering smile surprised Loki. The human looked down at him, and his thumb moved in tiny circles along his scalp. Loki arched into the touch before he could think better of it.


	8. Revelations

"He left a dead rat in my shoe.”

Tony looked up from his breakfast. He had graduated from the neck brace days ago, but he was still careful not to move his neck anymore than necessary, which was quite a bit more difficult now that he was sitting at the dining room table and not propped up on a dozen pillows. He smiled across the table at Steve and handed Loki another tiny piece of bacon. The cat was curled up by his plate and purring – “Honestly, neither of you have any manners,” Pepper had protested – eyes a sly pair of slits that stared at Steve almost smugly.

“Who?” Tony asked, playing dumb. “Him?” He gestured at the cat, who wore a look of amusement that really only ought to be on a human's face.

The look Steve gave him was long-suffering but distantly amused. “Well, it was either him or Thor,” he said wryly. “Neither would surprise me.”

Tony laughed. “Consider it a gift,” he said. “I hear that's how they show affection.”

“Cats or gods?”

“Neither would surprise me.”

Loki purred more forcibly and nuzzled at Tony's hand.

“Alright, alright!” Tony sighed with mock exasperation. He handed Loki the rest of his bacon, and the cat looked at him with eyes squinted into happy slits. Tony smiled and ruffled the fur on top of Loki's head.

“Are you seriously _hand-feeding_ him?” Steve asked, mouth slightly agape.

“Aww, come on, look how happy he is!” Tony scratched a finger under Loki's chin. Tony was talking in that baby-voice again, and Loki would have back-handed – back-pawed? – him for it if he weren't in such a good mood.

His skin had tingled with magic when he had awakened that morning. It was still a pittance compared to the power he was used to wielding, but at least now he knew for certain that his magic _would_ return. Another week or so, and he could return home to his plotting.

Except that “home” did not seem like the right noun, for some reason. If he could speak, Loki would have cursed. Was he _that_ starved for company that he actually enjoyed being a _house pet_? That was pathetic on so many levels.

For his part, Steve just looked borderline horrified. “He's the spawn of _Satan_ ,” he said.

Hmm. Loki had heard that an awful lot since dropping to Midgard, but really, if he thought about it, it was more likely that Satan was _his_ spawn. It would explain quite a bit, actually.

The clank of dishes roused Loki from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Tony clearing the table. He still moved stiffly, wincing every once in a while when he jarred sore muscles. Loki remembered then that Tony was an ordinary human with no super-strength or super-healing to protect and preserve his fragile mortal body. The other Avengers were all “meta-human” and survived off their brawn or mutations or scientific enhancements or whatever-the-Hel-else. So what set Tony apart from all those other mortals who sat at home, watching the Avengers on the news from inside their sad, short-lived little bubbles?

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, interrupting Loki's train of thought.

“Never better,” Tony answered unconvincingly. “Why do you ask?”

Loki rolled his eyes at that bit of macho posturing. Sometimes Tony was not so different from Thor, a fact that Loki found unusually irksome. From his answering sigh, Steve was less than impressed himself.

“The Hulk used you for batting practice. By all rights, you're lucky to be alive.”

“Well, hallelujah, then,” Tony answered dryly, now focused on rinsing his dishes.

Steve sighed and did not ask further. He gave Loki a sour, distrusting look as he left the room. Mentally, Loki threw him the finger.

 

 

Loki had just come out of the litter box – he and the humans had compromised with an enclosed one for privacy – when he found Tony in the workshop for the first time since the Avengers' spat with the Hulk. Pepper had insisted that spending hours bent over his desk or some device was bad for Tony's still-healing neck, and she and his other patsies would likely scold him for doing so now. For his part, Loki did not see the point, since – for him, at least – boredom was even less conducive to any sort of recovery.

Loki meowed to let Tony know he was there. He had sneaked up on the human often enough and, while it was amusing to watch him jump, he didn't want to give his already fragile body a heart-attack. Tony smiled and called him over, so Loki jumped onto his lap and stared at him until the human remembered that it was his duty to pet him.

“Don't tell Pepper, okay?” he said, smoothing one hand down Loki's spine.

Loki scoffed as best he could in cat form. It sounded like a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

Tony stared at the nearest computer screen and pecked at a few keys with one hand. Loki squinted into the computer's glow and watched what looked like a blueprint for the infamous iron suit fill up the screen. Loki darted a sidelong glance at Tony before hunkering down to stare at the screen and watch him work. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Loki scanned through the names of people who would kill for the information Tony was unwittingly sharing, going through the suit piece by piece, tweaking, adjusting, deleting.

Where before Tony would talk to himself or his robots as he worked, he directed his mindless observations and questions at Loki, who wondered if all the babbling were really a necessary part of the creative process. At the very least, it gave the Trickster some context.

Both jumped when the door swung open and a large shadow filled the door frame. Thor shut the door gently behind him and offered Tony an apologetic smile.

“Pepper says to stop tinkering,” he said. Thor approached, darting a wary look at Loki that was returned with a glare.

Tony blew out a sigh that bordered on a groan. He looked down at Loki. “See?” he muttered to the cat.

Loki's evil chuckle came out as a purr. When next he looked at Thor, it was to see his brother staring at him like he had sprouted a second head (and he would know, since an experiment gone wrong a few centuries ago had made him do just that). Tony did not seem to notice.

“Tell Pepper that I'm a big boy and can decide my own bed time.”

Thor folded his arms across his chest. “I am not your courier,” he admonished.

Loki narrowed his eyes at the sense of deja vu. He had said those exact words many times; whenever Thor and Odin were at odds, they would try to send their messages to each other through Loki or Frigga, and neither of them would have it. The look Thor gave him indicated that he had chosen those words on purpose. He was probably trying to goad Loki into reverting to his natural form. Thor was hardly a master of manipulation, and Loki would have laughed if he could.

Tony rolled his eyes and returned to work, ignoring the frown that earned him from Thor.

“You'll aggravate your injury.”

Loki silently applauded the glare Tony shot Thor. “Trust me, there will be far more _aggravation_ if I'm just sitting around doing nothing.” Under his breath he muttered something about not being made of glass. Despite his obvious irritation, his hand was still gentle against Loki's fur.

“Pepper says to read a book.”

That earned Thor another eye-roll. “That's not the point,” Tony muttered. “I have ideas. Too many ideas.”

Inwardly, Loki smiled ruefully. He knew the feeling all too well.

“Loki used to say that,” Thor murmured. Loki looked at his brother sharply and saw that there was a bemused crease between his eyebrows. Thor met Loki's look with a challenging one of his own.

The hand petting Loki stopped. “What?”

When Thor spoke, it was slowly, as though he were weighing each word. “When my brother was little,” he said, “he used to take everything apart and then put it back together, sometimes the way it was but oftentimes with some... 'improvements'. He said it was not enough to know _that_ something worked; he wanted to know _how_ it worked. His mind always seemed so full of ideas and theories.”

Loki looked first at Thor and then at the human, wondering how Tony would take the comparison. With the ghost of a smile, Tony nodded. “Yeah, I... I was the same way,” he said softly. He seemed more bemused than alarmed or insulted, and Loki let out a breath he did not know he was holding.

Thor looked at his brother, and Loki could read his thoughts clear as day. _Do you remember those days?_ that look asked.

 _Of course I do_ , Loki wanted to shout. _But it wasn't half so idyllic as you seem to remember!_

Then again... everything _had_ seemed so much simpler back then. He blew out a sigh and rested his chin on his paws.

“Sometimes you two are very much alike.”

Loki's ears flattened, and he bristled. They were _nothing_ alike!

He would have called Thor a fool if he could speak.

Tony was silent, staring off at nothing. His hand had automatically resumed its petting, and Loki felt his muscles relax at the feather-light touch.

“Try not to work too late,” Thor relented, half-turning towards the door. “If I can promise the Lady Pepper you won't, she will not be quite so cross with you. Or with me.”

Tony smiled and hummed an affirmative, bending over his desk again. Loki watched Thor leave and walk up the stairs on heavy steps.

Loki hardly dared to blink, green eyes wide and intent on the surprisingly nimble movements of Tony's fingers. Blueprints for a suit upgrade flashed by in 2D and 3D, casting a blue glow across Tony's face and reflecting off dark irises. Even though Loki was only beginning to understand the alien technology of Midgard, as he watched Tony work, he began to realize and grudgingly admit to himself that Tony Stark was a genius even by Aesir standards. Loki understood the basics of the mechanics, but there were so many little touches and flourishes that transformed a piece of weapons technology into a work of art. He had not understood all that had gone into the iron suit before, and he found himself impressed despite himself. He wondered how a human so severely handicapped by Midgard's medieval knowledge and technology could create something like this.

And finally, _finally_ , Loki saw that Tony Stark was not by nature a man of brawn but of intellect, and that he had used that intellect to put himself on the same level as warriors like Thor and Captain America. Without that suit, without that brain, Tony Stark was wholly and regrettably human, no super strength or genetic mutation to set him above his kin.

It was Tony's mind and will that set him above his peers, not any super-strength or mutant powers.

Loki looked up to study Tony's face, heavily lined with the intensity of his concentration even as his lips moved automatically. Loki realized that – maybe – Thor was right and that, lesser creature though he was, Tony Stark was in essence a kindred spirit.

Change a few key events here and there, and Tony's life might have been Loki's, all told.

This Iron Man was the closest thing to an intellectual _and_ physical equal that Loki had encountered in centuries. Something thrilled in the pit of Loki's stomach at the thought, something dangerously close to hope, but Loki clamped it down and pushed the thought of it into the back corners of his mind.

He was merely hiding here long enough to regain his magic, not to make friends, and _certainly_ not to moon over one of _Thor's_ friends.

The very thought repulsed him, and Loki turned and leapt from the desk in his disgust. He couldn't remember the last time he had been in a different form this long, and it was starting to wear on Loki's already frayed sanity. Tony stopped his mumblings long enough to watch Loki head for the stairs.

“Hey, kitty,” he called. “Where you going?”

Loki ignored him and found some dark, isolated corner to curl up in.


	9. Dependency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full chapter of cat!Loki, so savor it.
> 
> Also: CATNIP. >:]

Loki would never admit it, but he had grown to look forward to the hours Tony spent working. He would sit with the human, either on his lap or nearby, and watch his fingers move, listening to his ongoing commentary. Sometimes Loki would sit on a tool or implement he knew Tony would need just so he could watch the human squirm around for a bit.

As for the others, Loki was limited in the amount of pranks he could pull to pass the time (the whole lacking-opposable-thumbs thing got in the way), but he did enjoy leaving grisly little trophies in Steve's shoes and Thor's underwear.

Also, there was that one time Steve left his laptop open, and Loki set all of the human's preferences to gay porn sites. Steve's girly shriek of “ _My eyes!_ ” and the resounding crash of his chair hitting the floor was a memory he would cherish forever.

The internet was a wonderful thing.

Thor had known it was him and shaken his head. Tony remained oblivious – though amused – but every once in a while Loki would catch Pepper eyeing him strangely. _She suspects_ , he realized. He decided to tone down the pranks.

Boredom would be a problem before long, he knew, but for now he relied on bothering Tony Stark for his amusement.

Which was why he was confused and a little miffed when, one night, after deciding he was healthy enough, Tony went out to some party and did not return until late into the night. Loki should not have cared, really, and he thought he didn't.... until he saw the blonde trollop hanging off of Tony's arm.

He watched from the window as they approached, eyes narrowed and tail twitching. It was unseemly, the way she draped herself over him. When they stumbled through the door in a four-legged mass, Loki sneezed at her perfume. He could feel the stench sinking in and sticking to his fur. _Ugh._

Loki slept on the couch that night.

 

He awakened early the next morning when Thor sat next to him, jostling his perch. Loki spared a glare for his brother and then turned over so that he was facing away. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep. Thor didn't take the hint and stroked a big hand roughly down Loki's flank. Loki growled, but his heart wasn't into it, and when Thor persisted, Loki let him.

“It is unusual for you to wear a second form this long.”

 _Like you would know what is and isn't “unusual” for me_. But he stared at the wall and let Thor continue to pet him. He wasn't particularly good at it, but Loki had gotten used to a certain amount of physical contact over the past few weeks and now – to his shame – felt he almost craved it.

“Are you well, brother?” His voice was barely a whisper, but Loki could hear the concern in his words.

 _Oh, so now you think to ask._ He could answer, he supposed, with a look or a shake of his head, but he just stared at the wall, unmoving.

“'Tis also unusual, of late, for you to take your rest out here.”

At that, Loki mustered up the energy to throw a glare over his shoulder. Thor's smile was small but knowing.

“Tony Stark is a good man,” he said. “I trust him.”

_I do not._

Loki wondered what connection there was between Tony and his sleeping habits, but... well, okay, so that was a lie: he knew exactly what Thor was implying, but he did not want to think about it. He turned his embarrassment into outrage and jumped from the couch, leaving the room and Thor without turning back.

 

“Would you like some breakfast, Daisy?”

“Daphne.”

“Whatever.”

Clearly their love was not the stuff of legends. She was no longer pressing herself against Tony like a well-dressed hooker, and Tony seemed altogether far less happy to be in her company. He was using that abysmal contraption to make toast and stood by the counter, as far away from “Daisy” as he could be without being in another room. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the counter and kept glancing at her over his shoulder as though hoping she would be gone the next time he looked. He was cringing and moving stiffly again. Likely last night's “exercise” had aggravated his neck injury.

Loki watched them from the doorway for a long moment. Then when he decided that “ _Daphne_ ” did not seem like a cat person, he jumped up onto the table in front of her and purred loud enough to wake the dead.

She shrieked like a banshee.

Tony whipped about, muscles tensed in full warrior mode. When he saw what had made her scream, he rolled his eyes and slumped out of his battle stance.

“Relax, Nancy, it's just my cat.”

She gave him a glare that would have made any valkyrie proud. “It's _Daphne_ ,” she corrected, biting out the words. “And I'm _allergic_!”

Excellent.

Loki purred harder and sat at the edge of the table, craning his neck to nuzzle against her shoulder. She shrieked and jumped out of her chair, hands flailing about. Her skimpy red dress threatened to slip from her shoulders.

Loki looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“Sorry,” Tony said. He sounded anything but. “He's just trying to be friendly. I swear they always gravitate to the allergic ones.”

Loki's tail twitched, and he continued to stare at her. When Tony turned to prepare the toast, Loki leveled a look at her and used a tiny spark of magic to make his eyes flash a bright, glowing red.

Her scream hit an octave that only dogs could hear. She swung her purse at him, and Loki drew back and hissed.

“Hey, hey!” Tony caught the purse, his jaw tightened in anger. “What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch?”

Loki had to bite back his mirth so that it wouldn't come out as an ill-timed purr.

Daphne wrenched her purse free and backed towards the door, keeping her wild eyes on Loki, who now blinked at her with big green eyes. “Your cat is the spawn of Satan!” she spat.

Loki hissed. _Again_ with the spawn of Satan?

“Get out,” Tony growled. She opened her mouth to say something. “ _Out!_ ”

Daphne's lips pursed in a glare that would have frozen the marrow of a lesser person before turning and stalking out of the room. Loki listened to the click of her heels until they were drowned out by  
the slam of the front door.

Tony blew out a sigh and sat at the table with his plate of toast. He took a bite, and he and Loki stared at each other as he munched. “Sorry about that, buddy,” Tony sighed. He reached out to scratch under Loki's chin, but the cat evaded his touch with a glare.

 _You think to touch me after fondling that_ whore?

Tony's brow furrowed. “What's the matter, Lo'kitty?”

 _Ugh, don't_ call _me that!_

Loki whirled around in a huff and jumped from the table, head held high and proud as he left the room.

Tony ate alone for the first time in weeks.

 

_Whoa._

The world was spinning in ways that no world had any right to. Loki hung on the arm of Tony's favorite chair, straddling it with his legs, digging his claws into the fabric and holding on for dear life.

And the _colors!_

_SOOoo many colors!_

He had never realized just how many there were, and he felt somewhat cheated that no one had told him. Loki had to rock from side to side to keep his balance. He heard someone giggling nearby – Pepper, some part of his brain supplied through the fuzz – and knew that he should probably feel insulted or irritated or... something that began with a “i”.

But the colors were just... _oh-my-gods-so-pretty._

He was drooling.

“...what did you do to my cat?”

Loki looked up to see the colors swimming around Tony's head. The world swirled around Tony, but his face stood still, as though everything had fallen into its orbit. Like the sun.

Loki wouldn't mind being caught in his orbit. He probably already was.

“He's been a bit cranky, so I got him some catnip.”

What was this catnip? Did he care? _Tony-come-closerrrrr..._

Tony laughed, and the colors rippled in time with the sound. He blinked, slowly, and then Tony's face was right in front of his, dark eyes bright and smiling. Loki's chest rumbled with thunder.

“He always purrs around you.”

Tony's smile grew, but he directed it over his shoulder at _her_. Slut.

Tony's face bent towards his again, and the thunder in Loki's chest grew loud enough to send his whole body shaking with the force of it.

“How're you doing, big guy?”

_Tonyyyy..._

He nuzzled his face against Tony's chin, rubbing his cheek against the human's stubble. Tony's chuckle was like thunder, too, and the human reached up to pet the side of Loki's face that wasn't rubbing against his. His fingers were warm and sent prickles of heat down Loki's spine.

The world shifted – while still spinning, and wow was that making him dizzy – and he realized from the warmth of a pair of arms around him that Tony was holding him. Loki pressed his nose into the crook where Tony's jaw met his neck.

_Tonyyyy! Tony, I looooove you. Stop chasing after skaaaaanks!_

“What the hell?”

That sounded like Steve, but Loki was busy trying to figure out if he could stick his tongue down Tony's throat as a cat. He compromised by licking the end of Tony's nose. Tony's face scrunched up, and he let out a rather unmanly giggle.

“Catnip,” he said, and Loki could feel as well as hear the words. He went back to nuzzling under Tony's chin and tried to wrap his front paws around the human's neck. “Apparently Loki's an affectionate drunk.”

More laughing, but Loki could barely hear it over the thunder.

“Hang on. Thor has to see this.” Definitely Steve.

He managed to successfully wrap his arms – paws, whatever – around Tony's neck and decided that he was content to just hang there. Tony patted him on the back.

“Love you too, buddy,” he said around a laugh. At that, Loki purred so loud he squeaked.

Moments later, the colors shook to the sound of heavy footsteps. Loki let his head loll back until he was staring at his brother's face upside-down. Then suddenly the whole room seemed so much more fascinating from this angle, and he tried looking everywhere he could. Tony laughed and held Loki tighter to keep him from falling.

“What is he doing?” Thor asked.

 _Hi, Thor!_ Loki looked back at his brother, still upside-down and meowed.

“Catnip,” Steve, Tony, and Pepper said at once. And, _wow_ , did the colors dance at that.

“What is this catnip?”

 _It's awesome._ Loki meowed to let Thor know that.

Steve was kind enough to explain while Tony was busy juggling Loki and Pepper was... what was Pepper doing, actually? He craned his neck about to look at her but then forgot what he was doing and swung back to look at Thor and Steve.

“Catnip is sort of like a drug for cats.”

“A drug?” Thor sounded halfway between confused and outraged. “But you told me that drugs were bad and to never, ever accept any, even if all my friends are doing it!”

Loki decided that required a comment too, so he meowed again.

“Thor,” Tony sighed, shifting until Loki's head flopped upright again. “He's a cat. Different rules.”

Loki decided that staring at Tony's skin close-up was much more fascinating. He rested his head on Tony's shoulder and stared with awe up at the human.

“And now he's drooling on me.”

Someone chuckled – Thor? – and hands much bigger and clumsier than Tony's tried to pet him. Loki growled low in his throat, and the hands withdrew.

_Tony and I are cuddling, Thor. You had your chance._

“Okay,” Tony said, drawing out the last syllable. “Maybe not so affectionate.”

Well, maybe if Thor didn't pet him like he was trying to skin him alive, Loki would be more agreeable. He was perfectly content with just Tony petting him, thank you. Steve was too gentle, which was pleasant for a while but got boring fast, and Pepper was always too busy; she knew all the right spots to focus on and used the right among of pressure, but she always needed her hands for other, work-related things and could only pet him for a few seconds at a time.

Tony, though. He knew how to use his hands, and all Loki had to do was give him a look and he would stop everything to lavish “his cat” with affection. If this were prison, Tony would totally be his bitch.

Then Loki's fuzzy mind connected “petting” to less innocent things, and he giggled. As always, it came out as a purr. There was some more talking, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Loki was content to just close his eyes and listen to Tony breathe.

“Okay, big guy.” Tony again. “I think you need to sleep it off.”

Loki whined in the back of his throat as Tony set him back down on the arm of his favorite chair. He went back to holding on for dear life.

“Tony,” Steve said. “I think our lives will be so much easier if you just keep him stoned.”

_I can't feel my paws._

Loki slid sideways onto the floor.


	10. Square One

After the fiasco with the catnip, Loki spent the rest of the day hidden in Thor's closet, getting fur all over his pants. It was dark, soft and isolated, a balm to his black mood. He felt humiliated, violated, and he wanted to tear off the next face he saw. 

Naturally, the next face happened to be Thor. Loki greeted him with a spitting hiss.

Thor sighed, outwardly more resigned than surprised to find his brother curled up amidst his clothes. When he reached for his pants, Loki assailed him with claws drawn. Pursing his lips, Thor picked Loki up by the scruff of the neck and flung him onto his bed, watching the hissing cat with his hackles raised bounce on the mattress.

What _in_ Helheim _was that?_

Loki dug his claws into the fur coverlet, ears flat and eyes wide as he tried to combat a lurch of nausea.

“Forgive me, brother,” Thor said as he extricated his pants, “but time is short, and I've none to spare on your tricks.”

 _Tricks? I was taking a_ nap!

Loki took a harder look at his brother and realized that he was wearing armor.

 _Oh great._ Now _what are you up to, Thunder Dolt?_

“Come.” Thor scooped up his cat-brother under one arm, and Loki squeaked and wriggled in protest. “I will leave you with the Man of Iron, and maybe you two can keep each other out of trouble.”

Thor left the room on purposeful strides, undaunted by the hissing cat digging tiny, wicked claws into his bracers. 

_What? No! Thor! Put me down, you great muscly oaf!_

“Try not to kill him while we're gone.”

_I make no promises._

“Thor, what – ? _Whoa_!”

Thor sent Loki propelling through the air again. Shrieking, claws drawn, Loki latched onto the closest object and dug in. 

Said object turned out to be Tony's head. Loki ignored the human's yelps of pain and dug his claws into Tony's hair, his legs and spine rigid and tail bushy as he struggled to balance. A pair of hands grabbed Loki about the waist and lowered him until he was cradled against Tony's chest. Despite himself, Loki relaxed at the feeling of being held securely after all that lurching around.

_I'm still pissed at you, you know, human._

“Okay, new house rule!” Tony bit out the words in a panicked rush. “We do _not_ throw _cats_ at _Tony_!” Loki looked up to see that his eyes were round and that his hair stuck up at odd angles, tiny claw marks marring his forehead. 

“Apologies.” To his credit, Thor did sound sheepish. “I... have not had the honor of dealing with a cat in recent years.”

_Idiots._

“Whatever. Just... where are you going, anyway?”

“You need not worry about that, son of Howard.”

A flurry of footsteps, and Loki twisted about, trying to see. He found himself staring up at Captain America's chin. He heard the low rasp of metal on cloth and saw that the human was dressed in his full battle attire, with his shield slung over his shoulder.

“Oh, c'mon, Steve, you too?”

Tony sounded as confused and irritated as Loki felt.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said. “Got a call from Coulson. Says he needs us to help him check something out.”

“How come I didn't get the memo?” Tony's fingers started rubbing light circles into Loki's neck and scalp. The Trickster suspected he didn't even realize he was doing it.

“We don't all need to go,” Steve answered, “and seeing as how you've somehow managed to aggravate your neck injury, Thor and I made an executive decision that you stay here and make sure Loki stays out of trouble.”

Steve reached out one gloved hand and Loki watched as it approached with small, tentative movements. The human stroked one finger lightly down Loki's spine. It tickled, but Loki hissed on principle. Cap drew back again.

“Wow. Gee. Don't make me exert myself or anything.” Tony started petting Loki more deliberately as though in reward for hissing at Steve. Loki closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought about that before you, ahem, _exerted_ yourself the other night.”

Loki regretted hissing at Steve in that moment. Tony sulked but said nothing.

“We will be back soon, Man of Iron.” Thor clapped Tony on the shoulder hard enough to knock him forward a step. Loki dug his claws into Tony's shirt to keep from falling.

Thor and Steve's looming bulks left Loki's line of sight, and he listened as their footsteps disappeared down the hall.

“Well,” Tony said around a yawn. “If I'm not needed, then I'm gonna take a nap. My neck's killing me.” He looked down at Loki and smiled. “What do you think, Lo'kitty?”

_Like I care about your sleeping habits, human. And if call me that one more time, you will wake up missing an appendage._

“Right. I'll feed you first, then a nap.”

_Really? I'm irritated, and your solution is to feed me?_

Okay, so it wasn't a bad solution, but not the point. And when Tony dragged his nails lightly over Loki's scalp, the Trickster had a hard time remembering why he had decided he was mad in the first place. His human was nothing short of infuriating. 

 

Loki perched on the narrow ledge of the windowsill, watching the leaves drift by in abstract patterns and listening to all the little sounds that echoed in the mansion's stillness: the drip of a faucet, the creak of an open door... the distant grating snores emanating from a certain human. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. Everything about that annoying mortal was exaggerated and over the top. 

Then a stuttering, percussive sound like the shake of a rattle or the hiss of steam cut into the near-silence, and fear shivered cold and sudden down Loki's spine. He knew that sound.

Loki dropped from the window and slithered, snake-like, through the shadows, straining to listen over the quickening drumbeat of his pulse. He followed the sound, and there, in the hallway, was a telltale wisp of black smoke.

_Shit._

He could run, he knew. The Horseman was drawn to energy, and Loki, with his current pittance of magic, would be all but invisible to him. He _should_ run. That was the whole point of being here, right? To distract the Horseman with the Avengers until he was whole enough to protect his own hide?

But...

Tony was asleep and Jarvis was oblivious, and that was just _not fair._

Loki growled under his breath and padded through the halls to Tony's room, side-stepping all traces of smoke and hissing. This human would be his ruin.

Tony's bedroom door was ajar, and Loki pushed his way in. The human laid sprawled across the bed, limbs akimbo and face half buried in a pillow. The lines of his face were smoothed over, peaceful and almost innocent in sleep, but Loki was pressed for time.

 _Wake up!_ The shout came out as a long caterwaul. If anything, the human's snores grew louder.

Loki wished that he had his normal hair and fingers, just so he could have something to tear at. Cursed humans and their so-called medicines! The pain-killers made Tony Stark practically comatose.

Loki leapt onto the nightstand and swiped at the alarm clock, and the appliance crashed to the floor in a heap of broken plastic. Tony snuffled into his pillow but then the snores resumed. 

Loki growled in frustration. He leapt the small distance between the nightstand and the bed and stared intently at Tony's face, at the eyes creased and puffy with exhaustion and at the thin line of drool trailing from the corner of his mouth. In his normal form, Loki would have slapped him awake. The Trickster considered regaining said form so he could do just that, but that would be a waste of magic; he was probably strong enough to do so by now but not by much.

So Loki settled for the next best option and swiped at Tony's ear instead. The human twitched and mumbled something – which was, Loki supposed, progress – but _still_ did not wake. Loki brought his face up close to Tony's, staring as though he could _will_ the human awake. Tony's breath smelled sour after all of that drooling, but Loki ignored it. He would have smiled if not for the urgency of the situation.

Loki growled in frustration and stalked to the opposite end of the bed. He favored Tony with one last, measuring look before sinking his claws into the lump on the bed that he knew to be a foot. Tony yelped and jolted to a sit, eyes round and wild, and Loki stared back, wishing he could communicate the situation through force of will alone.

“Really, cat?” Tony's voice was rough with sleep as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Am I going to need to wear my armor to bed, now?”

 _You might, if you don't get_ up, _you stupid human!_

Loki growled low in his throat.

Tony's brow furrowed at the sound, and he blinked. “Loki?” he murmured, eyeing him with wary concern. Loki growled again and whacked at Tony's foot with his claws sheathed. 

“Hey,” Tony admonished distractedly. “What's the matter?” He looked Loki up and down. “Why's your tail all bushy?”

 _Oh, yes, because a_ cat _is going to answer that. Idiot._

The stuttering hiss came again, louder and closer, and Loki whined low in his throat and gave Tony's foot another whack. Tony stilled, his brows knitted.

“What the hell is that?” he muttered. “Jarvis!”

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“What's that hissing sound?”

A moment of silence, and then, “Unable to confirm, sir. But there seems to be an unusual concentration of energy just outside your door.”

Tony's lips pressed into a thin line. He cursed and pushed himself to his feet. “Guess I'll just have to find out the old fashioned way.”

Loki sighed and leapt from the bed to follow at his heels. _Oh, yes. Confronting pure evil in your boxers. This will end well._

Tony wrenched open the door and cocked his head. Inches away and staring directly into his face was the bone-pale face of the Black Horseman. Tendrils of smoke veiled the door-frame in a curtain of black. “Huh,” Tony said, one hand still on the doorknob. “Jarvis, there appears to be a weird-looking, hissing smoke-man standing in my bedroom doorway.”

Loki felt a growl rumble in his throat before he could stop it. The Horseman was far too close to and far too focused on Tony.

Or, more specifically, on Tony's chest. On his arc reactor.

Realization clicked into place. The Horseman was drawn to energy, and the arc reactor would be like a beacon in his otherwise barren world.

Loki was achingly aware of just how useless he was in his current form. _Tony_ , he wanted to say. _Run_. But where could he run to? The bedroom had one doorway, which was currently being monopolized by the Horseman himself, and this room was too far off the ground for a jump through the window to be an option.

Tony released the doorknob and started inching backwards, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. At least he knew that he was in danger. “Can I help you?” he asked blithely. The Horseman stared and said nothing, gliding forward to match each of Tony's steps back. “Okay. Strong, silent type. Got it.” Tony bumped into a dresser and fumbled behind him in a drawer, watching the intruder all the while. “You know, since you didn't knock on the front door or anything, I'm going to assume that this isn't a friendly visit.”

The next moment, Tony had a pistol aimed between the Horseman's eyes. It wouldn't be of any help, and Loki suspected that Tony knew that. “Jarvis, please let Steve and Thor know that we have an intruder.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Alright, creepy smoke guy,” Tony growled, cocking his gun. “You have one chance to explain why you're here or get the hell out.”

The Horseman stared and said nothing.

Loki watched the exchange, hardly daring to blink and trying to calculate what weapon would work best against this creature. Ironically, since the Horseman had been a fire giant in life, cold might do him the most harm. Then again, he was created in the heart of Niflheim, a world of darkness and ice. Really, Loki had no idea. All he knew was that bullets and the like were not about to hurt an incorporeal creature.

He would need to have Words with his daughter after all this.

Loki reached for his magic. It stirred sluggishly at his command. Under normal circumstances, Loki would not strain his magic when it was in such a state, but the god feared that he might not have a choice.

It all happened at once. The smoke curled around the Horseman, and he sprang upon Tony like a coiled snake. On instinct, Tony fired his gun, and the bullets parted smoke and burrowed uselessly into the far wall. At Tony's cry of surprise and pain, Loki pulled the trigger on his magic without even meaning to, and for the first time in weeks, the world lurched back into proper proportion. Loki staggered into the nearest wall, momentarily disoriented by having two legs in place of four.

The muffled thud of Tony's gun falling to the carpet jolted Loki back into the moment. He caught sight of Tony's face over a coil of smoke, ghost-pale and grimacing as grunts of pain caught in his throat, and saw the Horseman's corpse-white hand curled around the arc reactor. Under the Horseman's touch and stare, Tony's body shuddered and convulsed.

Something dark and visceral twisted in Loki at the sight, and he was upon the Horseman in the next moment, all ice and snarling teeth. Black smoke crystallized and shattered, and the Horseman lurched back with a hiss of pain, reminded of the cold terror of Niflheim. Lacy frost clawed its way up the walls, and Loki's angry pants came out as mist. The curls of smoke burned his fingers, but he clawed and snarled until the Horseman was retreating, dogged by black smoke and a long, hissing caterwaul that quickly faded into the night.

Loki turned to find Tony in a crumpled heap on the floor, and the ice and rage bled out of him. Something, some emotion, hooked its claws into Loki's chest and was making it difficult to breathe. He knelt by the human and blew out a shuddering sigh when he pressed a hand to Tony's throat and felt a pulse flutter under his fingers. 

“Tony,” Loki murmured, cupping his face and smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. The human looked like death, his skin pale and clammy, the shadows under his eyes like bruises and his lips blue-gray. Dark eyes opened to slits and looked at Loki without actually seeing him. He made a weak sound in the back of his throat, and his eyelids flickered and fell closed.

The Thing in Loki's chest was crawling its way up his throat, and he swallowed heavily. He pressed a palm to the arc reactor, searching for even the barest flicker of power. It was little more than a fancy piece of metal now, dark, dormant and cold to his touch. Under his hand, Loki felt Tony's chest rise and fall with labored, wheezing breaths. 

He was dying, as humans were wont to do, the pragmatic, logical part of Loki's brain told him. The rest of him rebelled against the thought. 

It was too soon.

Something prickled against the back of Loki's eyes, and he blinked, finding it even more difficult to breathe. This should not affect him so, the pathetically short life of one lowly mortal. His hand trembled as it carded through Tony's hair, and Loki cursed himself for it.

 _Think_ , he told himself. He could fix this... he _had_ to.

The gears in Loki's mind churned at double speed, and he remembered a night in Tony's workshop, watching the human work on a second arc reactor. Now Loki understood why the human had decided to make a spare, and he knew what to do.

“Don't you die on me, human.”

But watching him, Loki wondered if Tony would live long enough for him to fetch the other arc reactor. Loki blew out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, reaching deep into his already-depleted source of magic. There was almost nothing left, putting him right back where he was at the beginning of this whole mess. His hands were shaking partly from exhaustion, he realized, and if not for Tony, Loki would probably be out cold himself. Still, he reached deep and willed the spare arc reactor to come to him. It was in his hands the next moment, but the world was grainy, spotted, and spinning when he opened his eyes. He blinked and gritted his teeth, willing his vision back into focus, using Tony's face as an anchor. 

Breathing a prayer to he knew not what, Loki curled a hand about the arc reactor in Tony's chest and twisted and pulled until the object slid free. Loki's hands shook violently from nerves and exhaustion, and he almost dropped both arc reactors when the world rocked again, dotting his vision with black splotches. He fumbled with the wires connecting the reactor to Tony's chest like a thin umbilical cord, cursing his usually graceful fingers for their untimely jerking and trembling. 

He dropped the first arc reactor to the floor with a clang. The second arc reactor hummed and glowed, making Loki's skin prickle with energy. He did not know if he was doing this correctly, but he did not have time to hesitate or make sure. 

“Don't die on me,” Loki said again, pausing a moment to make sure that Tony was still breathing. 

He was, though barely.

The arc reactor clicked into place, and Loki held his breath, searching Tony's face for signs of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Evil cliffhanger, I know. *dodges rotten fruit*


	11. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy, guys. >:]
> 
> Enjoy!

Consciousness was a hand around his throat.

Steve Rogers' hand, to be exact.

Loki did not remember blacking out, but the world was hazy around the edges the way it was when he overtaxed himself. His vision had narrowed to a tunnel of clarity, currently focused on the snarling, half-masked visage of Captain America. Loki's eyelids drooped closed, and the hand on his throat shook him awake.

The wall was solid against the planes of his back. Sound barreled into him.

“ – did you do to him?” Steve was shouting, over and over judging by the hoarseness of his voice.

“Calm yourself, my friend.” Thor's voice – not the loudest, for once – weaved under, in, and through Steve's barrage. Thor's hands were on Steve's shoulders, gripping and tugging.

There was a third voice, higher, feminine, and quavering. Loki's eyes slid to the side, and his tunnel of vision centered on Pepper, who knelt on the ground with Tony's head on her knees. Her mascara was running, and she jabbered into a phone, her face and knuckles white. She was rattling off an address, asking for an ambulance.

_Tony._

Loki noted the soft flutter of the human's eyelids and the steady, if shaky, rise and fall of his chest. Steve's hand was still around his throat, but Loki could hardly feel it. The haze crawled towards the center of his vision, and the sounds grew distant and unintelligible. The world tilted, and the hand on his throat fell away to a pair of arms around his chest.

Haze turned to black.

 

Next, Loki awakened to the sensation of movement, aware of being held, cradled like a child. His cheek was pressed against cool metal, and a voice like thunder rolled over him. He closed his eyes and fell back into nothingness.

He felt cold. Unbearably cold.

 

Loki could feel Thor's eyes on him before he was even fully awake. He rolled over so that those eyes bore into his back instead. He squinted, but the light bouncing off the white, white walls was a dagger in his skull.

“Brother.” Thor's voice was a soft rumble, like a lion's purr. “Are you awake?”

Loki huffed weakly and pressed his face into the pillow. “No,” he said and, half-floating as he was, he was not entirely sure that was a lie. Nothing ached, exactly, but he felt exhausted, as though it took all of his energy just to breathe. He wanted to drift off to sleep again, but something niggled in the back of his mind, telling him that he needed to know something first.

He was too tired to figure out what it was. The light shone red through his eyelids, and he burrowed under the sheets to block it out.

“How are you feeling?” At least Thor had the presence of mind to keep his voice soft.

Loki sighed loud enough to convey his annoyance. “Like shit,” he said. See? Not everything he said was a lie.

That _something_ in the back of his mind tugged at his awareness, like an itch between his shoulder-blades. There was something... he had been worried about something.

“Tony is awake,” Thor said, and that _something_ , the question mark in the back of his head, turned into an exclamation point. Loki's eyes snapped open. “He is pale and a little shaken, but he will recover.”

Tony.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed past the painful lump in his throat. Right. He had been a cat, hadn't he? But he wasn't now, which meant...

Which meant.

“I don't know why you think I care,” he grated out. “What is one mortal's life to me?”

He should have let Tony die. Now he was going to have to face being his enemy again, the object of his anger and disdain, and for some reason that... _hurt._

Why did it hurt?

“You are usually a much better liar, brother.”

Loki would have hexed his brother for his impertinence had he the energy. As it was, he could do little more than glare at the wall directly in front of him.

Thor changed tactics.

“What happened, Loki?” he asked. “Tony does not remember anything, and we only found the aftermath. We know that his arc reactor shorted out, and Lady Pepper says that Tony would have been in no condition to replace the reactor on his own. After calming down, Steve agreed that it looked like you helped Tony, but why was it necessary?”

Loki's fingers ghosted over his throat. He remembered the squeeze of a hand around his windpipe and the unmitigated fury in the Captain's eyes.

“The Horseman,” Loki rasped before he could think better of it. “He was drawn to the arc reactor's energy.”

 _He was drawn to my magic first and then I led him to Tony._ But he left that unsaid. Let Loki be the hero for once, even if the thought of it was strangely cloying.

“The Horseman?” Thor blurted, and Loki winced at the stab of sound. “But... I thought Hela said–? ”

“She is my daughter. She says many things that aren't true.”

The chair creaked at Loki's back, and he could all but see Thor fidgeting in discomfort. 

“Did he sap you of your magic as well, brother? I know he has done so before.”

Loki shuddered at the memory but did not bother stating the obvious. He wished Thor would stop speaking of pointless things and mention Tony again. But at the same time, he never wanted to hear that name for the rest of his immortal life.

“You should speak with Tony,” Thor said. Loki got his wish and didn't at the same time. “He has been asking for you.”

Those words made his pulse jump until, “He's been asking for his _cat_ you mean.” Idiot human.

“Aye,” Thor replied, his voice subdued, almost puzzled. “What is the difference, brother?”

Loki blew out a sigh, and the angle hid his eye-roll. “He doesn't know, Thor.”

A pause, followed by more creaking. “He doesn't know what, Loki?”

“He doesn't know that I've been masquerading as his cat.” The creaking stopped, and Loki could feel Thor's disbelieving stare centered on the back of his head. “Tell him the fur ball ran away or got run over or something.”

“That... would surely break his heart, brother.”

“'Tis better than the truth.”

Loki did not want to deal with this. He wanted to find a dark hole to crawl into and sulk for a few centuries until he felt better. Or at least until Tony Stark was dead and no longer an issue.

“No.” There was both a challenge and a finality in that one word. Loki rolled onto his back to give Thor an appraising look. His blue eyes were pure steel, and that one word echoed between Loki's ears.

_No, Loki._

“You are not running from this.”

With his magic again depleted, Loki realized that he had no choice in the matter.

 

Tony was curled up on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders and the TV remote in hand. He had whined and wheedled until Pepper had – exasperatedly – agreed to make him soup, though he had a feeling that she might spit in it.

He was tired and hungry enough to eat it even if she did.

He hopped from channel to channel and came to the conclusion that the only shows on his 3000+ stations were the Teletubbies and Spanish soap operas. Why did life keep handing him these hard decisions?

The couch felt strangely empty without his Lo'kitty curled up at his feet, staring at the TV with an appraising eye. Tony had asked where his cat was, but his assistant had stuttered and mumbled something incoherent before going off to, well, make his soup. At least he had gotten food out of it.

He had finally decided on a telenovela where some handsome, swarthy man kept wailing, “Por qué, Maria?” when Loki sidled into the room and sat on the couch at his feet. And by Loki, he meant _Loki_ , not his little fur-ball. 

Except... wait.

“What exactly is going on in this... show?” Loki said the word as though what was in front of him hardly qualified.

Tony wanted to ask what was going on with _him_ that the god was just sitting there on his couch like he owned it. He looked at Loki for a long moment, all lean lines, pale skin, and dark hair, his green eyes watching the TV with a calculating look as though he could disassemble the device just by staring at it. It was a look Tony had gotten used to from his cat. 

His stomach dropped into his groin.

“Well,” Tony said as he turned back to the screen. “It looks like Carlos here has been messing around with Maria, who has in turn been messing around with Julio, who has a love-child with Juanita that was adopted by Maria's sister. Or something like that, anyway.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at the human. “You understand Spanish?” he asked.

“Do I need to?”

Loki and Tony watched the screen for a few minutes in silence. There was an awful lot of making out and passionate shouting and staring that turned into more making out. Loki sat back with an amused, though puzzled, air.

“You are right,” he said at length. “There are some things that transcend the language barrier.”

Tony smirked. There were so many things off about this situation, but stranger things have happened. To him, anyway. “Guess we've been doing diplomacy all wrong if sex is the international language,” he said because he can't turn off the snark switch in his brain.

“I do not think that is quite what they mean when they say 'public relations', Stark.”

Tony chortled and twisted so that he could face both Loki and the TV. “Well, you know,” he said, falling into his look-how-sexy-I-am voice automatically, “we really should work on _public relations_ between Asgard and Midgard. You know, for the sake of justice.”

Loki did not look at Tony, but his lips twitched in a barely suppressed smirk. Hmm... usually Tony's pick-up lines were met with derision and some amount of pain when directed at the god. Tony filed away this bit of information in a section labeled _Interesting Things to Poke At Later._

“Then perhaps you and Thor had better get on that,” Loki blithely rejoined. “Then again, you might curry more favor by taking matters directly to the king.”

Loki's eyes finally slid to Tony's, and they glinted with mirth. That look made Tony want to run and hide behind his suit. You know, just in case.

And then the words caught up to Tony, and he shuddered at the mental image. “Whoa, now,” he said. “If we're talking about _leaders_ dealing with public relations, then it should be Fury getting his freak on with Odin.”

Okay, that mental image wasn't any better.

Loki agreed if his glazed look and full-body shudder were anything to go by. “Frightening thought,” Loki sighed. “Then again, together they make a full set of eyes. Perhaps it is meant to be.”

“Nothing can stop their love.”

“...oh dear Odin, now I've just envisioned them frolicking across the Bifrost. Have you invented Brain Bleach yet, Tony?”

“Patent pending,” Tony replied even as he wondered, _When has Loki ever called me_ Tony? It was always “Stark”, “Mr. Stark”, “Idiot Mortal”, or some sort of expletive. “And is this Bifrost thingy really a rainbow bridge? Because that just sounds like something a My Little Pony would throw up.”

“A little... _what_?”

Tony offered his best imitation of Loki's “I'm-about-to-put-you-through-Hell” face and picked up the remote. 

The clack of heels and the clink of dishes alerted Tony to Pepper's presence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw tension wind itself around Loki again.

“Soup?” Tony chirped.

“Soup,” Pepper sighed as she rounded the couch and came into view. She handed him a bowl of steaming chicken noodle, a spoon, and a huge wad of napkins. 

“Oh, Pepper,” he said, looking up at his unimpressed assistant with big eyes, “no one understands me like you do.”

She nodded and patted his arm consolingly. Tony cradled his bowl of soup and blew gently across its steaming surface. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Loki watching them, eyes sharp and body stiff as though tensing to run. Then he realized...

“You don't seem too surprised to see Loki, Pepper.”

Pepper and Loki exchanged measuring glares, and Tony pulled back as far as the couch allowed to escape the crossfire.

“No,” she said. “I was actually wondering when he would sit down since he's been standing in the doorway for the past half hour.”

Tony picked up his spoon, sipped at his soup, and felt the room drop at least ten degrees as Loki dialed up the glare.

“I believe the real question,” Pepper said, and Tony admired her complete nonchalance in the wake of that glare, “is why aren't you surprised?”

Tony found himself pinned by two intense looks from either side. He paused mid-sip and nearly burned his tongue. “What?” he sputtered. And then he thought about it. A god with a penchant for destruction sat down next to him and he didn't panic, didn't call for the other Avengers or run to grab his suit.

Before he could possibly think of an answer, Pepper smiled and slinked out of the room, looking altogether far too satisfied. Tony turned his questioning look at the only other person in the room. Loki was staring down at nothing, long fingers picking at the seams in Tony's leather couch.

“So...” Tony began, hoping to change the subject, because he thought he knew why it seemed like Loki belonged there, sitting by him on his couch.

“I'm your cat,” Loki said in a rush, lacking his usual Lokean eloquence. His body was one whole compact line of tension, ready to bolt like a startled deer despite the look of cold defiance in his eyes.

Tony surprised them both by saying, “I know.”

Loki blinked at him for a long moment, brow furrowed. After a few aborted attempts at speech he said, “You... _what_?”

“Well, I didn't _know_ know, but I did know something. You know?”

“...no.” Loki was looking at him like he was an idiot now, and – really – he got that look often enough from Pepper as it was. 

Tony smirked and went back to his soup. The TV broke through the silence.

“That's it?” Loki said warily. “I was expecting a more... explosive reaction. Something.” He gestured expansively.

Tony considered it a victory that he had managed to confuse the crap out of the God of Mischief. He doubted many could say the same. He took his time answering, savoring his soup and the anxious, doe-eyed look Loki was giving him.

“Well,” he said at length, settling against the back of the couch. “It is a little weird. I mean, you used to sit on my lap and purr.” Tony considered it an even greater victory when she saw splotches of red creep up the Trickster's cheeks. “But if ever I feel some great injustice was done, all I have to do is think about how Pepper and I were going to h-have you _fixed_.” Those last words barely surfaced through a hiss of laughter.

Loki folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “What?” he snapped. “I heard you and Pepper mention something about that, but what does it _mean_?”

“You don't...? Oh _man_!” By now Tony was curled up on his side and holding his stomach as wheezing gales of laughter escaped him. His bowl was on the floor where he was less likely to spill it. Loki arched an eyebrow, decidedly unimpressed, and Tony took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm long enough to explain. “We were going to get you _neutered_. You know, snip?” Tony gestured with two fingers like a pair of scissors and bit his lips against a giggle.

Loki's eyes popped wide, and his hands immediately dropped to protectively cover his crotch. “Ahh!” he shrieked. “You, you – _barbarians!_ ”

Loki shrank back, and Tony fell over laughing again.


	12. Nothing More Than Feelings

All Loki wanted to do was curl up by Tony's side, to feel warm and safe as he had as a cat. He had loathed all the petting and contact at first, but now he missed it with an almost physical pang.

It was over, he realized. Tony Stark knew who and what Loki was, and this space between them might as well be an impenetrable wall for all that Loki could cross it. It was foolish, he knew, to envy the life of a _cat_ of all things, but just thinking about all he had lost was making it difficult to breathe.

Happiness was transitory, and he knew that. Now, it was time to move on. 

“So,” Tony said. His voice summoned Loki back from his maudlin thoughts. “Why a cat?”

“Why not?” Loki automatically deflected. He laced his fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

Tony smirked and shook his head. He set down the heavy bowl with a _clank_ and turned his full attention on Loki. “Okay,” he said, “then why here?”

Loki had a lie ready on his tongue until he looked up into large, dark eyes and forgot what he was going to say. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

The couch was a decent size, but Tony tended to sprawl, limbs flopping about in every direction, so there was barely a foot of space between the two. Loki studied the human quietly; in his experience, only someone who was confident or feigning confidence could fill up space so efficiently. In contrast, Loki perched on the edge of the couch, muscles tense and limbs close to his body. That was an indication of someone wary, unsure, and Loki frowned, displeased with his own display. 

True, Tony's confidence bordered on arrogance, but no mortal should have the upper hand in this situation. Loki leaned back until his shoulders met leather and cushion, and, slowly, he unwound like a ball of yarn until he sat back in a muted version of Tony's sprawl.

His shoulder almost brushed Tony's and those dark, dark eyes were close enough that he could see flecks of gray and brown, but if Loki's pulse jumped, surely it was an aftereffect of exerting his magic the night before.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You've been dying to say that, haven't you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I have.”

Loki allowed himself a wry grin and a huff of laughter.

“Seriously though.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at his human companion. “I do not think you've ever been serious in your life, Tony Stark.”

Tony smirked but waggled a finger disapprovingly. “Hey, stop evading! Bad kitty!”

Loki's lips twitched in a smile despite his wishes. Tony Stark was a strange human.

He looked tired though, Loki realized. Haggard, even. This close, Loki could count the lines at the corners of Tony's eyes, the dark points of stubble that dusted his jaw. His eyes were heavy-lidded, shadowed, and puffy, and his hair stuck up at odd angles the way it did early in the morning. Loki wanted to reach up and comb his fingers through the wild strands.

He didn't.

Loki cleared his throat and looked at the TV. “I made an enemy,” he answered. He did not have the energy to conjure up another lie, not with his skin prickling under that stare. “I thought I could use you and your spandex-wearing friends as a distraction. Plus hiding under your noses amused me.”

Loki plastered a smirk across his face and held it as he turned back to Tony, gauging his reaction. Tony's eyes dropped, his brow furrowed, and then he nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, I can see you doing that,” he said, almost flippantly. He half-turned so that his torso was facing Loki with his elbow resting on the back of the couch. “Especially the 'making an enemy' part.”

“I'll have you know I can be very charming when the mood suits me.” Loki's smile turned a bit coy, and he found himself leaning towards Tony just enough for his shoulder to brush the man's arm. 

Loki knew he must be starved for attention if such a simple touch felt like fire. He pulled back when Tony didn't, unsettled without knowing why.

“Are you angry?” he murmured. It was a ridiculous question, but he wanted to know.

Tony's eyes held his as he considered. “No,” he said after a while. “I suppose I should be. I mean, I'll miss my cat and all, but... this is you, after all, so I'm hardly surprised. You'll still purr if I pet you though, right?”

Loki smirked. “That depends.”

Tony tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in consideration but lips curved with the hint of something else. “Interesting,” he said. “Usually, when I flirt with you, you get all pissy and slap me around a bit.”

Loki returned the human's stare evenly, the ghost of a smile still tilting his lips. Tony was still sitting closer than a friendly distance, and Loki itched to just grab the irksome human by the collar and pin him against the couch. “Well, I suppose I've built up something of a tolerance after all those times you rubbed my belly.” His eyebrow gained a suggestive tilt.

Tony inched closer as his smirk inched higher. “I distinctly remember you purring each time.” 

Loki's skin tingled. They were breathing the same air now. “You would too if I rubbed _your_ belly that way.” He ached to close the distance, to run a hand along the sharp angles of Tony's jawline, to bury long fingers in Tony's hair, but he could not bring himself to be the one to break down the barrier between them.

Tony's eyes looked black now. He bent forward until his breath tickled Loki's ear. “So,” he murmured. “Why didn't you?” His voice sent tiny shivers down the crook of Loki's neck.

And then the incongruity of the words penetrated his fogged brain. “Mmm?”

“Use me as a distraction?” It took Loki a long moment to realize that Tony was picking up an earlier thread of conversation. Tony leaned back enough to look at the Trickster, eyes still dark but serious with the weight of his question. The space he had occupied a moment before felt... colder, somehow.

Loki swallowed. No mortal – no _human_ – should leave him so addled. He started to pull back, to put some distance between them so that he could clear his head, when Tony slid a hand around the back of Loki's neck to hold him gently in place. The touch sent a shiver down Loki's spine.

“I don't remember much,” Tony murmured. “But I remember _you_. You woke me up, tried to warn me. That _thing_ that shorted out my arc reactor was distracted. You could have run, but you didn't. Why?”

Loki glared but did not pull out from under Tony's hand. He did not know how to answer. “You talk too much, human.”

“ _Why_?”

Loki grabbed a fistful of the human's hair and smashed their lips together. 

Tony grunted in surprise but did not pull away. As first kisses went, it was sloppy and brutal, a clash of teeth and tongues. Tony's grip tightened on Loki's neck until his nails started to leave crescent-shaped furrows in pale skin, and his free hand curled about Loki's hip. 

When Tony pulled back for air, there was a large, almost loopy smile on his bruised lips. 

“So _that's_ why,” he said. “You _like_ me!”

“Perhaps I was merely trying to shut you up.”

“Admit it! I grew on you after all that time, didn't I? You _like_ me!”

“I'm liking you less the more you sp– !”

The soft press of lips against his silenced him. This time Tony's touches were fleeting and gentle, one hand curving against Loki's cheek and the other curling around his waist. Loki stiffened. Violence and roughness and anger he could take and would relish, but this softness was... unwelcome. It reminded him of warmth and safety and of a home that he would likely never see again. Loki pushed Tony to arm's length and pulled back as far as the couch would allow, keeping his expression closed off.

“I am your enemy,” he said. “You would do well to remember that.”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, well, you're also my cat, so...”

“All the more reason why you should not kiss me so.”

Tony made a face that was somewhere between amused and horrified.

Loki's smile was bitter. He could not do this. “Goodbye, Tony,” he said before he could change his mind. He was on his feet and down the hall before Tony could stammer a reply.

“Whoa, whoa, _what_?” His voice followed Loki, but he dared not look back. “Hey!”

Tony did not follow, for which Loki was grateful. He needed to be alone, to clear his head and to distance himself from the human so that he would finally leave the Trickster's thoughts. He did not want to deal with anyone right now, so Loki was careful to avoid his brother and the other Avengers.

Loki slid from room to room, from the house, and melted into the shadows of night, where he belonged. And if it felt colder than he remembered, well, he would just have to get used to it.

 

Hours later, Tony shuffled into the kitchen, where Thor and Steve were busy pretending to be busy. “My cat seems to have run off,” he said wryly.

Thor and Steve exchanged glances that were less subtle than they thought. “About that,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow meaningfully at Thor.

“Yes,” Thor said solemnly, setting aside the cookbook he had been pretending to read... upside-down. “About your cat, son of Howard...” 

“Oh!” Tony blurted, realizing the reason behind their uncomfortable fidgeting. “Ha, yeah, he's the real Loki. I know. He told me.”

Thor blinked, and he and Steve exchanged startled looks. “Oh,” Thor sighed, and his shoulders slumped with relief.

“Wait, hang on,” Tony said, suddenly realizing something. “Did _everyone_ know that my cat was the real Loki but me?”

Thor and Steve exchanged sheepish glances. “Well... you called him _Loki_ ,” Steve reasoned. “We just assumed that you knew.”

“Well!” Tony snapped. “You know what _assuming_ does!”

Thor and Steve hung their blonde heads and centered identical puppy-dog eyes on Tony. The irritation bled out of him, and he blew out a heavy sigh.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Anyway, Loki's missing. That was what I meant before.”

Thor frowned but looked more disappointed than surprised. “I am surprised that he remained here as long as he did, Tony,” he said solemnly. 

“What were you expecting?” Steve added.

Tony's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, and he shifted awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I don't know,” he murmured. They were right; he should not be surprised that Loki had just up and left, but... “I, uh. I don't know.” He cleared his throat and shuffled back out the door, wondering why he felt so disappointed.

Steve watched Tony fidget uncomfortably and then leave. He gave Thor a sideways look. “What was that about?” he asked.

Thor smiled softly but said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comment love, guys! :)
> 
> LET ME LOVE YOU ALL COME UNTO MY BOSOM.


	13. Smell the Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys! Got distracted last night by a FrostIron RP (which is waaaay too much fun), BUT we're back to daily updates now. Yes.

What Loki needed, he decided, was to put the humiliation of living as a house pet behind him as soon as possible. His plan was to fall back into his old routine and avoid Tony Stark for at least a few centuries. But with his magic still at a low ebb, returning to his former routine was far more difficult than he had expected. 

Loki slunk back to his apartment and found everything sheathed in a fine layer of dust. He would have to clean everything the old-fashioned way, he knew, but he hadn't the energy. Usually he was too fastidious to allow even the tiniest bit of grime quarter, but today he just curled up on his abandoned couch and stared out the picture window until night turned to day and day turned to night. The air was thick with dust and silence, and Loki felt... numb, in a way that he hadn't since he'd first found out he was a Jotun.

Days passed, then weeks, and Loki started to reacclimate himself to the silence and the solitude. Eventually his magic started to stir, and he stopped thinking about Tony Stark altogether. He started to wander the city again and to scheme, and he felt more like his old self.

 

It was a Monday. Tony hated Mondays.

More importantly, he hated business meetings that happened to fall on a Monday, especially when he was still at least partly hungover. At least en route, he got a text saying that the meeting had been postponed a half hour. Time enough for coffee, he decided, and thank heaven for small blessings. 

Tony instructed his driver to stop at the nearest Starbucks and shuffled through the glass doors. He closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting smell of freshly made coffee. The barrista asked if she could help him.

“Oh my God,” she blurted before he could respond. “You're Tony Stark! Oh my _God_!”

The customers in line behind him were staring at him now and murmuring to each other.

Tony spared the girl an appraising look. She was on the short side with more make-up than was strictly necessary, but she was kind of cute and what she lacked in height she made up for in bust size. Tony gave her an indulgent smile.

“The one and only,” he said. If a voice could swagger, Tony's did. “Could you get me a tall vanilla latte, cutie?”

The girl – Brianna, her name tag read – blushed and hid a titter behind her hand. She looked up at him through heavily mascaraed lashes as she started to prepare his order. Tony stepped to the side to let the next customer order.

“God, I love this shift,” he heard Brianna whisper to her nearest coworker. Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets and smirked. “Loki and Iron Man in one day! How cool is that?”

Her friend replied with a whispered, “I _know_ , right?” 

Tony Stark's brain ground to a halt. “Whoa, hey, what was that?” he blurted, pushing his way back to the counter and leaning over it. The customer trying to order swore at him, but Tony did not care. “Did you say Loki?”

Brianna and her taller, less-endowed friend exchanged meaningful glances before simultaneously turning said glances towards a table by the window. Tony followed their looks and swallowed a less than dignified yelp. There, out of the way, dressed in a well-tailored suit and sipping at a styrofoam cup was Loki. And he was poring over the contents of some trashy magazine with Angelina Jolie on the cover.

Tony froze, still clutching the counter, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. He could probably just slink out and pretend that this had never happened, but... _Loki_. The last time Tony had seen him, they had made out on his couch, and now there he was, his long fingers absently toying with his cup in a way that Tony found _thoroughly_ distracting.

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony blinked and pulled his eyes back to the counter and found little Brianna waving his latte under his nose.

“Loki's here,” he said numbly, and Brianna smiled indulgently.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “He comes here a lot actually.”

“Huh.” Tony's hand automatically closed around his coffee. Its heat seeped into the skin of his palm. “H-How often exactly?” He sipped at his latte just to give his hands something to do.

Brianna shrugged. “Not sure, really,” she said. “Sometimes he'll be here everyday for weeks and then, poof, he's gone for months at a time. He orders something different every time. If Jake is on, he makes it extra complicated. He actually made Jake cry once. But, you know, he's cute, so. Whatever.”

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled absently even as the less rational part of his brain – and, really, that was a rather large part of said brain – wanted to tell her to screw off and go find her own God of Mischief.

Tony checked his watch. The meeting could wait.

“Anything else I can get you, Mr. Stark?” Brianna asked, all politeness and smiles. She batted her eyelashes a bit, but Tony did not notice.

“No, thanks,” he said automatically. Then, “Wait, yeah, actually. Get me a muffin.”

Brianna blinked. “Okay,” she said. “What kind?”

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I don't know,” he said. “What kind of muffin does Loki like? He likes muffins, right?” He paused to consider. “Stupid question; _everyone_ likes muffins.”

Her painted-on eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. “You're buying _Loki_ a muffin? Like, the crazy, super-hot super-villain that likes to throw you through walls?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “You know, as a peace offering.”

“Uh, okay... I have no idea what kind of muffin he likes, though. I don't remember him ever ordering one.”

Tony cursed under his breath. “Well, shit. Okay, just get me one of each then.”

“One of... each muffin?”

“Yes.”

“Which muffins?”

“All of them.”

“You want... _all_ the muffins?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“...right.” Brianna let out a low whistle and turned towards the pastries. “Would you like a box for those?”

“No, I'm just going to stuff them down my pants. What do _you_ think?”

“Fine,” Brianna snapped. She pursed her lips and put together a box.

It was probably not a good idea to antagonize the barrista, but... dammit, she needed to stop shooting glances at Loki like that. Shoo, woman!

Tony paid for his order, tucked the box under his arm, and approached the table by the window. He slid into the seat across from Loki and smiled. Green eyes blinked, then slid up until they met Tony's over the top of the magazine. 

“Stark,” he said. His voice held only the tiniest stammer of surprise. He dropped the magazine to the table and smoothed one hand over it.

“'Morning, sunshine!” Tony chirped. He nudged the box towards Loki. “Have a muffin!”

Loki blinked. Then blinked again. Then opened his mouth to say something only to close it with an audible click. “You brought me muffins,” he said, nonplussed.

“Well, not _you_ specifically,” Tony lied. He leaned back in his chair to hide the fact that he was anything but perfectly at ease. “I was just picking some up for the guys, and I figured, well, I didn't get you any cat food, so.”

That earned him a huff of laughter from the Trickster, and Tony had to quell the urge to preen. Genuine laughter from Loki was a rare thing, and Tony intended to have it all to himself.

“You do like muffins, don't you?” Tony asked.

Loki looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course,” he said in his most condescending voice. “Who doesn't like muffins?”

Tony grinned triumphantly. “That's what I figured.”

Loki shook his head and reached for the box, looking askance at the human all the while, and Tony made a mental note that he picked the poppy seed muffin. Tony reached for his own muffin – chocolate with chocolate chip, because he could _really_ use the sugar right about now – if only to keep himself from staring as Loki's lithe fingers peeled back the wrapper and daintily pulled apart the muffin into small pieces to pop into his mouth. 

“I figured muffins were a better ice-breaker than 'do you come here often',” Tony said around a mouthful of muffin.

Loki arched an eyebrow and popped another bite into his mouth, pausing to lick a few crumbs off of his thumb. Now that was just not playing fair. “You're right,” he said blithely. “'Have a muffin!' is _far_ less awkward.”

“Glad you can appreciate my genius.”

Another chuckle, and Tony smiled. He watched Loki eat for a bit, getting crumbs all over the table. _I miss you_ , he wanted to say. And not because just he wanted his cat back.

He really should not be sitting here, eating muffins with the enemy. Then again, if Loki had truly ever wished him harm, he had had plenty of opportunities as a cat that he had let slip by.

“It's not the same without a cat in the house, you know,” he said, keeping his tone light, teasing.

“Oh, I'm sure Pepper would be happy to sit in your lap and purr.” There was an edge and a bitterness to Loki's smile.

 _Interesting_ , Tony thought, and he tried not to smirk. “Yeah,” he sighed, “but it's not quite the same. Besides I'd much rather have _you_ in my lap.” Tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and splotches of red sprouted high on Loki's cheeks. The Trickster coughed awkwardly and looked out at the fast-running rivulets the rain left on the window. Tony found himself admiring the pale expanse of neck turned towards him.

“You are many things, Tony Stark,” he said, “but you are far from subtle.” The words were spoken with a sort of fond exasperation. The look he gave Tony then was positively wicked, and the human had to bite back a groan. He wondered if the staff would mind too much if he bent Loki over the table and had his way with him.

He cleared his throat and looked at his watch. “I should go,” he said. “Business meeting.” _And if I stare at you any longer, I'll end up doing something that'll get us both arrested._

Something – disappointment? fear? – flashed through Loki's eyes and was gone. “Fair enough,” he said. “Do give Thor my best.”

Tony paused at that, unsure if Loki was being sarcastic or not. “Uh... sure.”

 

Across the room, Brianna snapped a picture of the two of them on her phone. 

“This is so going on facebook!”


	14. The Art of Being a Douche

Tony spent the rest of the day thinking about green-eyed gods of mischief and poppy seed muffins. Throughout the meeting, Pepper kept texting him to pay attention. Tony smiled and didn't listen to a word.

Loki spent the rest of the day drinking and cursing Tony Stark. It was dangerously weak for him – a _god_ – to be so enamored with a mortal. If they went back to being enemies, he decided, then he could convince himself that all this extra emotion was anger and nothing more.

 

Pepper's long-suffering sigh came right on cue. “Really, Tony?” she asked, eyebrows arched. “Sunglasses? In a museum?”

“You're just upset because I make it work.”

And because he might be a little tipsy. At least the shades obscured his puffy, bloodshot eyes. Made it a little hard to see, naturally, but it wasn't like it mattered: all art looked the same to him, anyway.

“So how long do I have to play nice before I can skedaddle?” he asked. He liked the way the consonants of that last word danced off his tongue and said “skedaddle” a few more times just for fun.

After the fourth “skedaddle” Pepper asked, “Tony, are you drunk?”

Tony tilted his head back and gave that question serious consideration. “You know, I'm not sure,” he said. “I wouldn't say 'drunk' so much as 'not sober'.”

Another long-suffering sigh from the redhead. Pepper rubbed at her forehead. “Okay, just... leave the talking to me. To answer your question, you're staying as long as you need to. You could use the good PR after that thing at Bon Jovi's party.”

Tony smirked. “Now _that_ was a night!”

“ _And_...” Pepper paused until she was sure Tony was listening. “You should show at least _some_ interest in the paintings you donated.”

“Mmm? I donated paintings here?”

Pepper's look morphed from weary to exasperated. “Yes!” she answered, her voice rising an octave. “The Miró? The Mondrian?”

Tony scratched his head. “Which ones were those? Were those the ones with the squiggles and the cubes? Oh wait! They _all_ look like that!”

Pepper pursed her lips, and Tony had the wisdom to look abashed. She stared at him for a long moment, cheeks red and jaw tight, as though trying to find a retort to adequately convey the many levels of her frustration. In the end, she only shook her head. “Come on,” she said, spinning on her heel and leaving Tony to follow. He adjusted his stride to match the click of her heels.

They weaved through the press of bodies and past sculptures until they found themselves in a vaulted hallway packed with smartly dressed men and women, holding glasses of wine and nibbling on pastries. From floor to ceiling, the walls were covered with painting after painting in a contrast of styles, colors, and compositions. The canvases varied in sizes, growing progressively larger as they reached the top. Combined with the low buzz of the crowd, it was sensory overload.

“Oh, hey!” Tony exclaimed, catching sight of the refreshment table. “They have muffins!”

His smile turned bittersweet as he remembered his run-in with Loki that morning.

“Yes, Tony, they have muffins.” Pepper patted his arm as though she were humoring a small child. “Hey,” she added, pulling up next to him. “Before you start kibitzing and stuffing your face, there's a painting on loan here that I want to show you – ”

“Yawn,” Tony said dryly. 

Pepper glared but continued. “ – and that I think you will find amusing.” She hooked her hand about his elbow and started to steer him towards a corner of the ginormous room.

“Oh, hey,” he protested even as he followed, “if you're trying to cheer me up with one of those paintings of naked chicks, I wouldn't bother. Most of the chicks in those paintings are fat with tiny boobs, which is just... the worst of both worlds, really.”

Pepper paused to level a disgusted look in his direction before continuing on a with a scowl. “Don't worry,” she sighed. “No 'naked chicks'.”

“Ah. Well, then I'm losing interest.”

Pepper said nothing else. She pulled them both to a stop and gestured at a painting taller than they. People trickled in and out as Tony blinked at the canvas.

“Okay,” he said slowly, pulling off his sunglasses. The light glinted off and obscured the top corner of the painting but provided no other illumination. “It's a very large painting of a very naked man in a boat, with a... sea serpent on a leash?”

He was not sure what Pepper thought about his tastes. She rolled her eyes and pointed at a plaque to the side of the painting. “Read the title,” she said.

Tony took a step closer and squinted. It read: 

“ _Thor Battering the Midgard Serpent_ , Henry Fuseli, circa 1790.”

Tony blinked, reread the title, and stepped back to better take in the painting. He stared for a moment and then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a snort of laughter. “It's _Thor_!” he snickered, drawing questioning looks from people around him. “And it's not _just_ Thor, it's _naked_ Thor!” His shoulders shook with laughter. “Steve needs to see this.”

Pepper watched in amusement as Tony pulled out a Stark Phone, took a picture, and sent it to Cap. It had taken a few months, but Tony had finally made Steve understand the ins and outs of his own matching phone. This was confirmed minutes later when he received a three-letter response:

_lol!_

“I'm surprised he even knows what 'lol' means,” Pepper commented, looking over Tony's shoulder.

“Well, I wouldn't say that exactly.” Tony bit back a smirk as he slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket. “He... may or may not be under the impression that 'lol' means 'lots of love'.”

Pepper arched an eyebrow but looked less than surprised. “And when do you plan on telling him otherwise?”

“After he uses it in some horrifically inappropriate manner?”

Pepper sighed and shook her head the way she always did when she was amused but did not want to encourage Tony's antics. Just to verify, she sent Steve a text that read: _my grandmother just died._

His response: _lol :(_

Pepper bit back a snort of laughter. “Alright,” she said, clapping Tony on the shoulder. “Behave yourself. I'm going to go talk to the curator.”

The click of her retreating heels was lost in the hubbub. 

Tony was aware of someone standing at his shoulder moments later. He assumed Pepper had returned until he heard a distinctly male voice say in his ear, “Muffin?”

A set of long, pale fingers entered his line of sight, holding a chocolate muffin in front of his nose. Tony followed the fingers up the length of an arm into a familiar, smirking face. 

“Uh... hi, Loki.”

He realized then that that one word breathed into his ear had sent his blood pooling in places it shouldn't. Tony Stark had experienced many things, but it was the first time he had ever found himself turned on by the word _muffin_. That was just all sorts of wrong.

The god's smirk inched higher, and this close Tony could count the laugh lines that curled around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. Loki arched a delicate eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at the muffin in hand. Tony took it from him without even thinking about it. He stared ponderously at the bit of pastry.

“It isn't poisoned, is it?” he had to ask. 

“Only one way to find out.”

Tony decided that was good enough for him. He shrugged and took a bite of muffin. He watched Loki, swiping his tongue over his teeth to dislodge any unattractive bits of chocolate. Loki watched him back with a sly look that reminded Tony of his cat form. There was something... off about him though, something unsteady in his expression.

“So, Loki, what brings you here?” he asked. He was torn between signaling Pepper to bring him his suit and putting on the moves. He landed somewhere in the middle and decided to just finish his muffin.

“I was bored.”

Tony had expected as much. “I'm sure I can keep you entertained.” 

It was when Loki laughed breathily that Tony was aware of the smell of alcohol. He thought, for a moment, that the smell was from him. Then he realized that it had the faint grape scent he associated with wine, when he had stuck to the harder stuff today. He stared at Loki for a moment, somewhere between impressed and worried at this unexpected behavior. The god's eyes, he realized, were just this side of bloodshot.

“You're drunk,” he noted.

“So are you,” Loki replied, a tad defensively. He was enunciating his words very carefully.  
“And as for your suggestion,” Loki said. “I already have some entertainment planned.”

The next thing Tony knew, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He was only vaguely aware of the shrieks and gasps of horror around him, of the wide-eyed stares, and of the crowd giving them a wide berth.

“Really, Loki?” Tony sighed. He knew he should probably be more concerned about having a gun pointed at his face, but all he felt, oddly, was disappointment. “I didn't think guns were your style.” He took another bite of his muffin, watching Loki closely.

The Trickster smirked and tilted his head. “I like to keep you on your toes,” he said. “Besides, it's more for the symbolism of the thing.”

Loki snapped his fingers, and there were more gasps all about them. Tony looked around, searching the room for signs of magic, and did a double-take when he got to the Fuseli. Where before stood a painting of Thor attacking a sea-serpent, there was now a painting of Loki on a throne, petting the sea-serpent and using a kneeling Thor as a footrest.

Loki nodded in satisfaction. “I think it's an improvement, don't you?”

Tony sighed. He could care less about a missing painting, but he knew that there were people here who _did_ care and that this particular painting was probably worth a boat load of money. “Where's the painting, Loki?” he asked wearily. Why was Loki doing this now?

Loki defiantly returned his stare. “Tony, Tony, Tony,” he sighed melodramatically. “I had thought that you'd be more concerned about the missing person than the missing painting.”

Missing person? Tony's blood ran cold. There was something dark and angry in Loki's smile. “Loki,” he murmured, almost pleading. “Don't do this, not now. I don't want to be your enemy – ”

“We _are_ enemies, Tony Stark!” Loki shouted. “Or have you forgotten?” There was hate and madness in Loki's eyes, but he was still smiling. That look, those words, _hurt_ in a way that Tony should be used to by now.

“Loki...”

“You humans, always so in awe of yourselves and your own meager achievements. You!” Loki kept his gun trained on Tony, but turned to address a plump woman with a name tag. Next to her stood Pepper, who exchanged helpless glances with Tony. The plump woman – the curator – jumped and shook like a leaf at the address. Loki scratched his head with the muzzle of his gun. Even without the gun trained on him, Tony knew better than to see that as a moment of weakness. “I will return one to you: a Mr. Newcastle or this painting that you revere so much.” Loki gestured vaguely in the direction of the painting. “Pick one.”

The woman's eyes widened. “P-Please return Mr. Newcastle,” she said, though there was great pain in her eyes. Tony wanted to punch Loki in the face for doing that to someone.

Loki frowned. “And leave a piece of history with me? All humans die at some point anyway, but artwork like this could exist forever if taken care of. Wrong choice.”

The woman shook even harder. “T-Then give back the Fuseli?” she said, her voice little more than a squeak.

“You would abandon one of your own like that?” Loki replied in mock horror. “Mmm, no, still the wrong answer.”

The woman burst into tears, and Loki laughed.

Tony clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to grab Loki by the throat and shake some sense back into him. Maybe, in a way, he could. “Then I have a third solution,” he said. He knew he should probably think this through, but by then he might be too late. Loki looked back at him, head tilted in curiosity. “Return Newcastle and the painting, and take me as your hostage instead.”

He recognized the blurted, “ _WHAT?_ ” that followed as belonging to Pepper. 

Tony kept his eyes trained on Loki. He tried to find traces of the god who had saved his life, watched bad Spanish soap operas with him, drank coffee with him, and kissed him within an inch of his life. He was still there, he knew, under the anger and the alcohol and all that gods-damned emotional baggage. Loki, please, he wanted to say, but the god was too far gone to listen right then.

The Trickster stared back at him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “Done,” he said at last. He snapped his fingers again, and the world seemed to lurch sideways. 


	15. Don't Drink and Connive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Scuse me while I just... vomit some Loki feels all over this chapter. *whistles innocently*

When Tony found his feet again, they were buried in an inch of green shag carpet. To the left, the day's dying light backlit the New York skyline through a picture window, and though the world had re-solidified, it continued to spin of its own accord for a moment. Tony focused on the smudge of black in front of him, and Loki stared back, frowning.

Tony swallowed his nausea long enough to grit his teeth and land a right hook on Loki's jaw. The god didn't deflect or dodge, letting his head swing to the side with the blow. He sighed and, with a flick of his hand, sent Tony careening back into the wall. White pain jolted through the human's skull. Curled in a heap, Tony grunted and rubbed at the lump forming at the back of his head, watching Loki and waiting for the assault to continue. 

It didn't.

“Are you finished?” Loki asked. His arms were folded, the gun tucked in one hand against his side.

Tony blinked at the floor until the world finally settled. He glanced at the unblemished wall and knew that Loki could have easily sent him through it. With magic, it would have been simple to clean up. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, pushing himself into a sit and letting his anger fade away into something else. He stared up at Loki, trying to read something, anything, in those impossibly green eyes. Loki's face was still as stone. “Are you going to shoot me?” he indicated the gun with a tilt of his head.

Loki unfolded his arms and considered the weapon in his hand as if only seeing it for the first time. “Yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. 

Before Tony could react, Loki had leveled the gun at his face and pulled the trigger.

A stream of water hit him between the eyes. Tony sputtered and shielded his face with his hands, glaring around them at a smirking Loki.

“A water pistol?” he snapped. “ _Really_?”

Loki arched one elegant eyebrow. “Would you rather I use a real gun?” he asked blithely. “Do you think I need one?”

Tony blew out a sigh and pushed himself to his feet. “You're scary enough without one,” he muttered. Tony studied Loki's face for a long moment. “So... you weren't planning on actually shooting anyone? Why did you do all this?”

Loki's expression turned from amused to crazed in the blink of an eye. “Because I'm _evil_ , remember?” he snapped, putting mocking emphasis on the word “evil”. “Isn't this the sort of thing that's expected of me, _human_?”

Loki threw the gun away from him and turned so that his back was to Tony. Tony felt like he was treading an emotional minefield. 

Tony knew that he was the last person prepared to defuse the ticking time-bomb that was Loki. He took a deep, steadying breath. First things first, he decided.

“So... you've returned the hostage and the painting?” he asked, watching the tense lines of Loki's back and waiting for a reaction.

“Of course,” Loki snapped, long fingers drumming on a granite countertop – wait, was this Loki's _apartment_? – and his back still to Tony. “It was an experiment. Neither that painting nor that sniveling little man are of use to me now.”

Tony made a note to verify this with Pepper later, but somewhere in his gut he suspected that Loki wasn't lying for once. He cleared his throat, taking a step closer to the angry god with his back turned. “And what about me?” he asked. 

Loki turned to look at him, face set and expressionless, with his head tilted to the side. “That,” he murmured, “is a good question.”

Tony blinked and tried not to show his surprise. A part of him had thought that taking him hostage had been Loki's real endgame. Maybe it was the alcohol or something else, but Loki seemed a little off his game today.

“You know,” he murmured, “for a villain trying to prove his 'evilness',” – yes, Tony included finger-quotes – “you really don't seem to be trying too hard.”

Tony barely saw Loki move. He watched anger flit across the god's face, and then he found himself pinned to the island counter, skull cracking against granite. There was a hand on his throat, slender but strong, and a face in his, keeping Tony's back bowed at an uncomfortable angle. He grunted, blinked back the red and white spots crowding his vision, and held stiff and still.

“My intention, Tony Stark,” Loki growled in his ear – oh _God_ , that _voice_! – “is not to _impress_ you.” He punctuated this statement with a squeeze to Tony's windpipe. Tony wheezed and struggled for breath, feeling the blood pool in his head. “Theft and kidnapping aren't 'evil' enough? What would you like me to do? Kill children and use their intestines to tie up their parents?” 

Something about Loki's response bothered Tony, though he couldn't put his finger on why. 

He needed to defuse the situation. Red wire, blue wire. Only for once the goal was to _not_ blow shit up.

And then he remembered a certain story that involved the death of one of Loki's sons and a gruesome set of chains, and Tony could finally see the grief and pain beneath the veneer and anger and madness. “Oh, Loki,” he rasped before he could think better of it. 

Loki stared back for a moment, and his eyes were over-bright as he pushed away with a snarl, releasing Tony to prowl about the space of the living room/kitchen. Tony blew out a shaky breath and pushed himself back onto solid ground, watching as the god paced around him.

 _Did that actually happen?_ he wanted to ask. _Did Odin really do that to you?_ In the end, he was too afraid of the answer. And then, as he wracked his brain for the right words, something else clicked into place. Like a line of dominoes, other revelations tumbled after until Tony stood reeling but triumphant.

“You know that some of the things you've done are considered evil?” he asked. “You are aware that they're evil, even as you're doing them?”

Loki slowed to a stop, eyeing Tony warily. “Of course,” he snapped.

“That makes no sense.” Loki's brow furrowed in confusion, and Tony smiled. “No one ever does what they _know_ is the wrong thing. They justify their actions to themselves first, convince themselves that they're making the wrong decision. Yeah, sure, sometimes they'll feel guilty afterwards, but heroes, villains, whatever, they all do what seems right _in the moment_.”

Tony watched Loki as he spoke, but the Jotun kept his expression carefully blank.

“No one ever describes _themselves_ as evil,” Tony said softly.

“I believe I just did,” Loki dryly replied, one eyebrow arched.

“I know,” Tony murmured, “which is why none of this makes sense to me.”

The silence between them was heavy and oppressive. Tony fought the urge to squirm under Loki's intense stare. Finally the god turned away with a sigh and a bitter smile, and Tony allowed himself to breathe.

“You... are an unusual human,” Loki said softly to the floor. “I've seen more lifetimes than I care to count, and yet you... well.” Loki cleared his throat and turned his gaze to the side.

Tony dropped to sit on the couch, watching Loki's expression all the while.

“So why are you doing this, exactly?” Tony sounded more curious – amused? – than concerned. He stretched his arms to rest on the back of the couch on either side of him, a gesture that Loki would normally read as self-assured, confident, but there was always the chance that Tony Stark was only messing with him. Loki found the very thought maddening, and yet...

And yet.

Loki did not answer, and Tony was quick to fill the silence. “I mean really,” he said with the barest laugh in his words, “it's like kidnapping someone is the only way to get them to spend time with you.”

Loki should not have flinched at those words. He was the Liesmith, the Trickster, the master of fake smiles. But he did flinch, though barely. He blamed the slip on the alcohol and turned away, staring out the window without actually seeing anything in front of him. The back of his neck prickled with the weight of Tony's stare.

“Hey...”

Tony's voice trailed off. There was something like guilt underlying that one word.

Seconds passed in silence, and then the floor creaked with the weight of familiar footsteps. Tony stood next to him then, and they both stared, unseeing, out of the picture window. Loki was hyperaware of the scant space between them, the inch or so between their shoulders. He wondered what would happen if they shifted just so.

“Perhaps we are not so different, you and I.”

A whisper and little else. The air tingled with the words.

“Of course we're different,” Loki groused, refusing – _refusing_ – to look at the human. “ _Worlds_ different. You are nothing like me, which is why...”

Loki bit his tongue.

Tony looked at Loki. Loki watched the human out of the corner of his eye but dared not turn his head.

“Which is why...?” Tony prompted. Loki could hear the smirk in Tony's voice, and inwardly, he bristled.

“Which is why I need a drink,” the Trickster sighed. “Want a drink? I need a drink.”

When he did look at Tony, he avoided eye-contact, focusing on something over the human's shoulder instead. Loki was again made aware of how close they were standing and stepped away under the pretense of fetching the aforementioned drinks.

“Um.”

Tony watched Loki half-stumble around the room. 

“What the heck,” he sighed. “Sure.”

A moment later, Loki had a pair of tall glasses in hand and offered one to Tony. The human took the clear drink hesitantly. The Jotun smiled wryly at his “guest” and downed his drink in one go.

“To your health,” Loki said. If there was a bitter edge to his smile, well... he would blame that on the alcohol, too.

Loki dropped to a sit on the couch and felt Tony's shadow fall over him. He waited until the liquor calmed his nerves, until the fine tremor in his hands evened out, before he licked his lips and spoke. “You know,” he said, peering into his nearly-empty glass, watching the way the last drops of liquid clung to the sides. “There was a time when I thought I knew right from wrong.” He glanced up meaningfully at Tony, who turned to him, looking far too sober and attentive. “I didn't always do the right thing, but I told myself that there was a line I would never cross.”

His voice sounded altogether too gravelly and his words too slurred. Loki paused to clear his throat and let his gaze skitter to Tony and away again. “With the Frost Giants, I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. Thor had made sure that war was inevitable, and Father kept going on about the tragedy of war and all the death that it would bring to Asgard.”

Tony dropped to a sit beside Loki, glass dangling from his fingertips. He was sitting closer than a friendly distance, and though Loki's skin prickled at the thought, he pretended not to notice.

“I... I didn't know what to do!” he continued. “I didn't want to be king, but Father went into Odinsleep and Thor had proven himself too arrogant and hot-headed to rule, and I...” Loki paused to swallow and wipe a hand over his face. “I thought... it was my duty to protect Asgard, and... I suspected that Laufey would exact retribution if he'd the chance, so I pretended to give him one, to see what he would do. He tried to kill Father, so I killed him, and to prevent things from escalating, I discovered a way to destroy Jotunheim with one clean blow. Do you see?”

Loki turned wide, bright eyes Tony's way, brow furrowed in pleading and guilt. Tony stared back and swallowed. “The best weapon is the one you only have to fire once,” he said softly. The words held the weight of a quote. 

“Who said that?” Loki asked, bringing the near-empty glass to his lips just to give his hands something to do.

Tony smirked and stared out the window. “I did.”

Loki paused to give the human an appraising look. He had forgotten that Tony had specialized in making weapons.

“The war would end without anyone in Asgard getting hurt,” Tony continued, the vibration of his words loud in the near-silence. “I... can't say I approve of the whole, y'know, killing-an-entire-race thing, but... yeah. Yeah, I see. Sometimes you have to kill to protect.”

Loki blew out a shaky breath. Tony's words left a warm ache in his chest. Loki blinked, and his eyes glimmered wetly as he turned away, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. Tony understood: Loki knew that what he had done was wrong, but what choice had he had?

“I thought Father would be proud,” Loki continued in a husky whisper. His hands fidgeted in his lap, smoothing down the corners of his tunic. “He kept dropping hints, and I thought... I thought it was what he wanted.”

Tony's lips twitched in a bitter smile. A father's disappointment – yeah, he could understand that. It was starting to freak him out, how much he _understood_ Loki. He was not supposed to have so much in common with a super-villain, dammit!

“And after?” Tony prompted softly. Loki's eyes looked up without seeing.

 _Super-villain_ : what a flat word, now that he thought about it. It didn't match up with all the angles and contours and living dimensions of the god – the very flawed and _human_ god – next to him. 

“After?” Loki echoed, brow furrowing briefly in a question.

Loki was many things, but he was not evil. Selfish, maybe, but not evil. 

“You know. When you came to earth, took the cosmic cube and decided to start blowing shit up? Did you still think you were doing the right thing, then?” 

Loki's lips twitched in a smile.

Tony Stark understood the merits of selfishness better than anyone else.

“No,” Loki said. “I just finally came to terms with the fact that it didn't matter.”

That big-eyed look was doing things to Tony's insides. Loki had a cold, chiseled beauty offset by the expressiveness of those large green eyes that transcended gender and social mores and Tony had never wanted to just _stare_ at someone quite so badly before and –

Focus, Tony. Adults are talking.

“What do you mean?” he asked, because he knew he should. 

Then again, “should” had flown out the door long ago. What he _should_ do was call Pepper and let her know he wasn't dead. What he _should_ do was have SHIELD pick him up and arrest Loki. Tony decided that “should” could go screw itself.

Watching the god pour himself another glass, Tony had a feeling that, if he left now, Loki would not bother stopping him. In any other hostage situation, Tony would have tested that theory and been halfway to the door by now. But Tony suspected that he was needed here, and... Tony needed to be needed.

Loki did not answer for a while. He poured Tony another glass and scowled when the liquid sloshed over the sides. Tony took a swig and grimaced as the liquor burned a line down his throat, leaving a warm glow in his stomach. He wondered, idly, just how much Loki had drunk earlier and if he was feeling as languid and calm as Tony was. When Loki slumped against his side and rested his head against Tony's shoulder, Tony suspected that he had part of his answer.

The warmth of a body curled up beside him reminded Tony of cat-Loki, and he suspected that drunk-Loki was lapsing into old habits. Tony had almost forgotten his question when Loki finally spoke, his voice starting to adopt a drunken slur, “For all your limitations and the brevity of your lifespan, sometimes I envy you humans.”

Loki's words were barely above a whisper, and Tony shook himself from his musings to look at the god. There was an ancient pain lurking under the surface of his emerald-green eyes.

“Why?” Tony scoffed. Why would a god envy a human?

Loki craned his neck to look up at him, his head rolling against Tony's shoulder. “Your life is short,” he answered, gesturing vaguely with his glass, “but 'tis your own to live. You can do what you wish.”

“Can't you?” Tony asked, allowing Loki to steer the conversation. It was a rare thing to be able to pick apart the mind of a god, especially one as cunning as Loki. Tony knew he should not be so fascinated by the deceptively fragile-looking man at his side, but he was.

Loki's lips twitched into a not-smile. “No,” he murmured. He pulled his feet under him and curled tighter against Tony's side, burying his face in the juncture where the human's neck met his shoulder.

Tony blinked, unsure he understood, and he gestured for Loki to continue. The god looked at him with ancient eyes but obeyed.

“I don't suppose you are particularly familiar with Norse mythology.” It was a statement, not a question, but Tony shook his head anyway. Thor had explained some bits and pieces, but most of that had to do with weapons and battles and the like; Tony doubted that was what Loki was referring to now. He had done some research on Loki and Thor on his own, sure, but he'd rather let Loki think that he knew less than he did.

Loki nodded to himself and intertwined his fingers. “Then have you ever read _Oedipus Rex_?” he asked. Tony arched an eyebrow at the _non sequitur_ but said nothing. “Hermes introduced me to a quiet fellow named Sophocles a few lifetimes ago, and I hear that some of his works still survive.” He smiled, his gaze far away for a moment. “The Athenians always knew how to party, despite some of their... less savory practices.”

Tony thought it said quite a bit about his life that he did not so much as blink at any of that. “Yeah, back in high school,” Tony muttered, trying to remember what English classes he _didn't_ sleep through. “ _Waaay_ back. That's the story where the guy kills his dad and marries his mom, right?” 

Crazy shit. He'd much preferred chemistry where he was given free range to blow stuff up.

Loki smirked and then took a deep breath. “In essence, yes,” he said. “Oedipus heard a prophecy saying that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Not knowing that he was adopted, he fled Corinth and went to Thebes, where he accidentally killed the king and ended up marrying the queen, his real parents. In trying to avoid his destiny, he only brought it about himself.”

Tony shook his head. “Guess that's what happens when you try to go against prophecies,” he said, thinking for a moment that he sounded rather wise. 

Loki looked at him like he had three heads. “What would you do?” he asked. “Sit around and wait until you ended up marrying your mother? _Ew_.”

Tony tried not to look too affronted. “I thought you gods were really big into incest.”

Again Loki gave him that incredulous look. “The Olympians, maybe,” he snapped. “Do I _look_ Greek to you?”

“It's all Greek to me,” Tony joked. At Loki's unimpressed look, he added a mumbled, “Sorry.”

Loki rolled his eyes and glared out at nothing. 

“Okay,” Tony sighed, pressing his cheek to the top of Loki's head. “So fate sucks. Is that what you're trying to say?”

Loki sighed heavily, pursed his lips and tilted his head from side to side as if to say, _Sort of_.

“Imagine you're Oedipus,” Loki said in a subdued voice, “except that you're reincarnated over and over, destined to fulfill the same prophecy each time. Each life, you remember bits and pieces of the ones that came before. The path changes, but the end result is always the same. No matter where you go or what you do, each and every time you kill your father and marry your mother. Each and every time you are punished for it.”

He looked at Tony, staring _through_ him as though waiting for something. Tony read the pain in those eyes, and he thought he was beginning to understand.

“And... you're Oedipus,” he said slowly. He saw his answer in Loki's face as the god looked down and away.

“In every lifetime,” Loki explained, his voice unusually thick, “Thor is destined to be a hero. I am destined to bring about chaos and ruin, even when I try not to. The lives of the Aesir are cyclical.”

“ _Every_ lifetime?” Tony echoed. Loki nodded distractedly. “That does not seem fair.”

Then again, Loki might just be trying to absolve himself of blame. Tony supposed that he should be careful, listening to the words of the God of Trickery, but... he had heard enough from Thor to suspect that Loki was, for once, telling the truth. And for once, he felt, he was beginning to understand him and why he was so horribly screwed up: Loki had given up.

Loki's lips quirked in a not-smile. “So why should I bother trying to do the right thing?” he murmured, staring off into the middle-distance. “The end result is the same. I might as well play my part to the hilt.”

Loki drained his glass and placed it on the table almost hard enough to be called a slam. Somewhere in the part of Tony's brain not saturated with alcohol, Tony realized that he was being handed a rare opportunity. 

Tony licked his lips and studied Loki's profile. “Let's say you're Oedipus,” Tony said before he could think better of it. “Would you rather let the prophecy happen or do everything you can to avoid it?”

Loki looked at him listlessly. “What does it matter? The result is the same.”

“But the road to it is different,” Tony pointed out softly. He caught Loki's eyes to make sure that he was listening. “And the road is just as important, Loki.”

Loki stared back at the human, and Tony watched his eyes turn bright and glassy with tears. Then his hands went to his face, and for the first time, Tony watched a god crumble. Tony went rigid, uncomfortable and unsure what to do. Giving comfort had never been one of his skills, but there was no one else there to help him out of this. Tony thought of Thor then and wondered what he would do.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony wrapped an arm around Loki's trembling shoulders. When his skin didn't catch fire, Tony tightened his grip and pulled Loki close, tucking him under his chin and murmuring comforting nonsense. For a god, Loki was really so very human.

“Okay,” Tony mumbled, swallowing down his discomfort. He pressed soothing circles to Loki's back. “Okay. I think we're done with the alcohol now.”

Tony freed one hand long enough to grab the bottle and maneuver it out of Loki's reach. It took him a long moment to register that the sobbing breaths had turned into a set of lips and tongue working their way up Tony's jugular. The human stilled as the hands clutching his shirt snaked their way under it. He jumped when cold fingers traced the lines of his chest and abdomen.

“You smell nice,” Loki slurred before tonguing his ear. Tony shuddered.

“O-okay,” Tony breathed, fingers tightening on Loki's shoulders. “So you're one of _those_ drunks.”

Really, he'd find the whole situation hilarious if those hands and tongue weren't being so _thoroughly distracting_.

“You,” Loki slurred into his ear. “I _hate_ you.” He punctuated this statement with a sloppy but soul-sucking kiss to Tony's mouth. 

_Don't respond_ , Tony told himself. _He's drunk; you're drunk. His brother would kill you. This is a Bad Idea_. Tony grunted and closed his eyes, pressing the god's lithe body flush against his. _Oh, who am I kidding... I'm a weak, weak man._

Tony's pulse hummed in his veins as he returned the kiss, snaking fingers into Loki's dark, slick hair and rumpling it to his heart's content. Loki growled and pressed Tony back against the couch until their bodies were properly aligned, his long legs framing the human's.

_Best. Kidnapping. Ever._

Loki broke the kiss to bite at Tony's ear, and gradually, Tony became aware of the god muttering a two-word mantra over and over again: “Damn you.”

That brought Tony to at least a few of his senses. He gripped Loki's arms and pushed him back until they were eye-to-eye. “We shouldn't be doing this,” Tony said, mostly to himself.

Loki's smile was lopsided and languid. His mussed hair fell into his eyes in frizzy strands. “Come now, Tony,” Loki rasped against his ear. The air was sour with alcohol, but Tony wasn't sure if that was from his breath or Loki's. “I can be whoever you want me to be.”

The god's voice was husky and a little slurred, and he was damned if it wasn't sending all of Tony's blood rushing in the wrong direction. Loki pulled back, eyes hooded and almost black, his smile a lazy, drunken echo of his usual smirk. His once perfectly kept hair begged to be further tousled and debauched, but Tony gripped the edge of the couch to keep his hands to himself. 

“Who do you want me to be, Tony?”

A hand down his chest, just light enough to leave a shiver in its wake, and – wait. Where had Tony's shirt gone?

Loki's skin rippled, and moments later it was Pepper astride his lap. “That Look” was disturbingly out of place in her eyes, and it was enough to jolt Tony from his haze.

“Oh, hey, no,” he protested, grabbing Pepper/Loki's upper arms and pushing her/him off onto the couch next to him.

Really, Loki should have his _own_ pronoun.

Pepper melted into Natasha, skin-tight suit and all. She crawled towards him predatorily, and Loki's smirk almost fit on her lips. 

“Better?” S/he purred against Tony's ear. She moved to straddle him again, but Tony pushed her back, more firmly this time. 

Natasha was hot and all, but this was... _wrong_. Tony had done far worse things, really, but something like guilt cloyed in his stomach.

“Loki, no. That's just... no. Please.”

Loki stared at him, and his smile shrank on his borrowed face. He recovered the next moment, however, as his form rippled into one more masculine. Soon Tony had a copy of Steve Rogers in his lap. Not that Tony _hadn't_ checked out Steve's ass in that tight, star-spangled outfit, but who hadn't? 

“How about this?” Loki murmured, eyes pleased slits in front of Tony's face.

“No,” Tony pressed, irritated. He got to his feet and pushed “Captain America” to the floor. “No! This is too weird, even by _my_ standards!”

Steve's eyes were round. “I don't understand.” Loki's voice sounded thick.

Tony stared down at the shapeshifter at his feet. “You don't...?” He bit off the thought and ran a hand through his hair. “Just turn back, Loki, please.”

The sprawled form rippled once more, and Loki resumed his usual shape, expressive eyes clouded with more than just alcohol. He stared down at the rug and almost seemed to curl up into himself.

Tony regarded the green-eyed god and realized, “You're really fucked up, aren't you?” His voice was soft, almost affectionate.

Loki looked at him with those doll-like eyes, but he just looked lost. Tony was used to Loki the high handed, arrogant super-villain... it didn't occur to him that the Trickster would have moments of weakness like this, moments of insecurity. Then again, their few interactions had hinted that Loki was not exactly mentally stable.

Staring with glossy eyes at the sofa, Loki looked like he was on the edge of another breakdown. Again there was that cloying feeling that made it hard to breathe. Tony sank to the floor next to Loki, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Loki looked at him, and Tony found himself unnervingly close to that pale skin, those green eyes.

He spoke without even realizing it.

“I want this. I want _you_.”

Loki's mouth attacked his with all the desperation of a drowning man. Tony was done thinking for the rest of the night.


	16. The Next Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the comments and kudos... and for just taking the time to read this, really. Any and all feedback helps to fuel the muse, so always know that I am deeply grateful.
> 
> I LOVE YOU GAIZ. *sniffle*
> 
> ALSO: I'm MaverikLoki on tumblr, so feel free to stop by and say hello! :)

Tony opened his eyes to be blinded by a stab of sunlight. He grunted and squinted at the window and the hazy corona that overlaid its outline like a rectangular halo. 

He catalogued his symptoms: sensitivity to light and sound, headache, sour taste in his mouth, waking up in a stranger's bedroom.

Diagnosis: hangover. 

Remedy: a potful of black, black coffee.

Tony yawned and scratched at the skin around the arc reactor. He considered the dark green sheets tangled around his legs and the still-warm imprint in the mattress next to him.

Correction: find pants, _then_ coffee.

Easier said than done, apparently. Tony was able to excavate his shirt, tie, and one sock, however, after finding the articles of clothing curled up against the wall like frightened critters. Tony blew out a huff of laughter and made himself a green toga out of the, now thoroughly wrinkled – heh – sheets of Loki's bed. 

Despite the fact that light had declared war on his skull and despite his rather vexing lack of pants, Tony found himself smirking and trying not to walk with too much of a swagger as he left the room. For last night he, Anthony Stark, had nailed the God of Mischief.

Tony paused a moment to give himself a mental high-five.

For that alone, he probably deserved the glare Loki shot him across the island countertop. Said glare held more misery than malice, however, so Tony did not take it personally, especially when Loki closed his eyes and groaned, cradling his head in his hands.

“Must you _breathe_ so loudly?” Loki's voice was like sandpaper on gravel. Tony smirked and sidled over, sliding onto the stool next to Loki. He took some pride in the god's disheveled appearance, the curls of hair that sleep had pressed into odd shapes, his general state of undress, and... oh, _that's_ where Tony's pants had gone!

Tony giggled at the thought of Loki “getting into his pants”, and just smiled apologetically when Loki winced and glared at him again.

“Coffee helps, you know.”

“Hnn?” Loki grunted, letting his arms flop outward onto the counter. The sprawl reminded Tony of cat-Loki on catnip. The image was almost excruciatingly endearing.

“With the headache,” Tony clarified. “So does water. When you're hungover, you're essentially dehydrated, so... drink. And coffee makes everything seem better, even though it... technically dehydrates you further.”

Loki hummed in agreement, and they stared across the island counter at the sink and the coffee maker next to it. It was only a few feet away, but even that small distance seemed insurmountable. Tony glanced at Loki, who returned the look with an eye-roll, a sigh, and a half-hearted flick of one hand. Two large mugs of coffee appeared in front of them, pitch-black and steaming.

Tony scooped up his mug with a relieved sigh, biting his tongue before he could flippantly say, “I love you,” in response. It was an everyday reaction now full of not-so-everyday connotations, and it was much too early and his head throbbed way too much for Tony to be getting them into _that_ mess.

“Thanks,” he said instead. He grimaced through a bitter sip before turning to Loki and asking, “Don't have a 'hangover-be-gone' spell, huh?”

It was a silly question, but he couldn't help but feel hopeful. Loki's long-suffering look killed that hope outright. “I'm sure one exists,” he said, “but it's not exactly my area of expertise.”

Tony thought about that as he took another scolding sip. Loki ghosted his fingers along the handle. For a single, sharp moment, Tony wondered if his drink were poisoned, before his brain caught up to how stupid that would be. He had just slept through the night in Loki's bed, for heaven's sake!

And, damn, that had been all kinds of awesome. Really, he'd had no idea that Loki was that limber and – 

Focus, Tony.

Loki groaned again and let his head fall forward to thunk on the countertop. Tony took in the undignified sprawl and the dark tangle of curls and smiled. Before he could think better of it, Tony sank his hand into those curls and pressed his fingertips in soothing circles along Loki's scalp. The god stiffened minutely before letting himself slump forward even more, completely boneless. 

Loki closed his eyes and hummed, leaning into the touch, and again Tony smirked. He'd had enough hangovers to know what helped, and the world was a much safer place when Loki was appeased.

Loki turned his head so that he could look up at Tony with one eye, one cheek still pressed to the granite. “I'm not your cat anymore, you know,” he mumbled, but there was no real reproach in his words.

“Sure thing, Lo'kitty.”

Loki's glare was half-hearted at best, and Tony knew better than to stop the impromptu head massage. Loki closed his eyes and continued to hum under his breath.

“Good human,” he muttered sleepily. “You know your place.”

Tony scoffed, but before he could reply, Loki mumbled, “Your pants are vibrating.”

“Hmm?” Tony stilled.

“Your phone,” Loki clarified groggily. “It's vibrating. In your pants.” A smile crept up his face. “Tickles.”

“Oh.” Now Tony could hear the subsonic hum. “Oh!” His eyes widened when he realized who must be calling. “Crap, right, I'm technically a hostage, aren't I?”

Loki smirked and slid the buzzing phone into Tony's hand. Tony lamented the missed opportunity to reach into Loki's pockets.

Thirty-seven missed calls. Pepper's name and number blinked across the screen. “Morning, sunshine,” he said into the phone and then winced when he thought about how un-hostage-y that sounded.

There was a gasp and then a hair-raising scream that sounded like, “ _YOU!_ ” Tony flinched and held the phone away from his ear. “ _The Avengers, SHIELD, and I have been looking all over for you, Anthony Stark, and the first thing you say to me is 'Morning, sunshine'?_ ”

Her voice rose in pitch until it hit an octave only dogs could hear.

“Calling you 'Anthony',” Loki blithely remarked. “She _must_ be upset.” He sipped at his coffee.

“Alright, Pepper,” Tony managed when she finally paused for breath. “Sorry. Didn't think that through, really. I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

“ _Sorry, I'm just... I've been so worried.”_

“I know.”

“ _So what's going on? Are you still a hostage or something?”_

Tony started to answer but then stopped to consider. “Good question, actually.” Turning to Loki, he asked, “Hey, Loki, am I still a hostage?”

Loki shot him a sly look over the rim of his mug. “In a manner of speaking.”

To Pepper, Tony said, “Loki says, 'maybe'.”

There was a long pause from Pepper's end, and Loki laughed.

“ _Tony, are you taking this seriously?”_

“Of course.”

“ _I...well, okay, um. Are you hurt? Are you in any danger?_ ”

“No, and I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I'll take my chances.” Tony looked at Loki and wondered how much he should tell her. If word got back to SHIELD or to the other Avengers, Tony was screwed.

_“Well, there's an ambassador here from Latveria who's been trying to get in contact with you, so do you think you could convince Loki to take you hostage some other time? Like, on my day off next week so that I don't have to deal with this?”_

“Thanks for your concern, Pepper, as always.” Tony pulled the phone away from his ear and looked over to see Loki watching him. Tony really wished he could read minds.

“I need to go,” he said softly, warily. See, this was why Tony usually left as soon as... business was done; he never had to worry about the awkward morning-after good-byes. Considering he was dealing with a god-slash-trickster-slash-villain who happened to be his close friend's brother and who – and for some strange reason, this was most important of all – happened to be _Loki_ , Tony was getting ready to hyperventilate.

Loki's eyes narrowed a fraction. Tony pushed himself off the stool but stilled when Loki's hand closed about his wrist, just tight enough to set alarm bells ringing in Tony's head. 

“You are still my hostage,” Loki said. He said the words lightly, as though teasing, but there was something accusing and desperate in his green eyes.

Tony peeled Loki's hand off his wrist and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. Loki's stare softened minutely, though his expression stayed closed off. “Your hostage needs to go to work,” he said. Then, with an arched eyebrow and a considerable amount of bravado, he asked, “Are you going to stop me?” 

Not a challenge, just a question.

“I...” Loki licked his lips, then in barely a whisper, “no.” He looked away and pulled his hand from Tony's grasp. Tony watched the walls of ice go back up and frowned.

He pressed a hand against the countertop and leaned into Loki's personal space, so that his lips were a breath away from the Trickster's ear. He could hear and feel Loki tense and swallow. “If you want,” Tony said huskily, “we could do this again tonight, only this time I'll take you hostage.”

 _That_ was new, asking for a second date. Then again, so was thinking of a kidnapping as a date, period. He wondered if this was what it was like to have Stockholm Syndrome.

Tony dragged his lips along the shell of Loki's ear and felt him shudder. Loki's knuckles were white against the mug in his grasp. “I do not believe that would be wise, Anthony.”

Tony pulled back as though slapped. Being called “Anthony” just reminded him of when his dad used to scold him. It was strange hearing it from Loki.

“Wise is boring,” Tony replied, trying to read Loki's expression, hoping for the barest clue as to what he was thinking. 

Loki looked away and said nothing, and Tony felt his heart sink into his stomach. Why was Loki acting so...?

Oh.

_Oh._

Oh God. Oh _God_! Tony should know by now when a guy was only interested in one thing. Usually he was the guy, but... 

Well now. Isn't irony a bitch?

“O-okay,” Tony managed through the restrictive lump in his throat. “I'll, uh... I'll just see you around then.”

Tony didn't look at Loki as he made his retreat, grabbing up his t-shirt and boxers and throwing them on – he was a master at this by now – on his way out the door. 

 

Loki watched him go and clutched the mug until it shattered, ceramic edges biting into his palms and making his hands sticky with lukewarm coffee and blood. He stared down at the mess for a moment before calmly and methodically cleaning it up. 

As he ran water over his hands, Loki systematically went through the steps for procuring a new apartment before noon. Tony Stark knew where he lived now and that was too dangerous.

It had been foolish to let him leave.

Loki growled and punched a dent into the wall above the faucet. He drew in ragged breaths and was almost relieved when the phone rang and interrupted his thoughts. Pulling his hand free of the decimated plaster, Loki switched off the faucet and switched on his phone. 

“Hello, Victor,” he said through grit teeth.

 

Pepper probably should have been more surprised when she rolled to a stop at the designated meeting place and watched a half-naked, barefoot Tony slide into the passenger's seat. She shook her head, but the snide comment died on her lips when she saw the look on his face.

“Rough night?” she asked.

A pause, and then, in a gritty whisper, “Just drive.” Tony stared out the window, and silence fell between them, thick and heavy.


	17. Mayhem and Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. It's 2am, and I can barely keep my eyes open. But I'm posting this.
> 
> This is how much I love you guys.

Tony Stark knew he should be listening. Pepper was reading aloud the rest of today's to-do list, but her voice was little more than white noise to him, like someone had cut off the reception of words to his brain. He felt the itch of fabric against his skin, the give of the couch beneath him, the glare of light in his eyes, but only as abstract entities his mind told him must exist.

But no matter where he looked, whether or not he closed his eyes, L– _he_ was there, on, under, and inside of everything. It wasn't fair.

All things considered, Tony knew he had no right to be angry with Loki, but he was. He did not know what he had expected or even what he had wanted, but...

 _Come on, Tony,_ he told himself, closing his eyes and trying to focus. _You made it through most of the day without thinking of this crap._

“I slept with him.”

The white noise cut to silence. Tony opened his eyes.

The world came back into focus, and Tony realized that he must have said these words aloud. 

Next to him, Pepper set down her tablet and sucked in a breath. “Okay, um.” She cleared her throat. “With whom, exactly?”

Tony looked up, and the angles and planes of her face finally coalesced into _Pepper_ , eyes sharp, questioning, and concerned. Tony looked down as he said, “With Loki.”

Pepper sucked in another breath, blew it out in a groan. “Oh God, Tony.” She grimaced and rubbed her forehead.

Tony swallowed and picked at tiny bits of lint on his suit. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“What were you _thinking_?”

Tony's gaze met hers and skittered away. A number of wry answers came to mind that he hadn't the heart to say, so he shrugged.

“Okay,” Pepper sighed. “Damage control. Where does Loki stand on all of this? Am I going to have to add him to the List of Angry Skanks to Avoid Forever, or is it different when your one-night stand is a guy?”

Tony pinned Pepper with a glare before he could stop himself. She sat back and eyed him narrowly, and Tony looked away again with a grimace.

“Hang on,” she murmured. “There was something different about this, wasn't there?”

“Well,” Tony wryly replied, “Loki's a guy, so, yeah, the physics were a bit different – ”

“That's not what I meant, Tony.” The words were soft but matter-of-fact. Her stare cut through him as easily as her words had cut through his, and for once Tony found himself wishing that she were a little less competent. 

“Nope!” he answered with false cheer, manipulating his expression like the strings of a marionette. Smile for the camera, Tony. “One-night stand, like you said. One night of crazy sex,” – mind-numbing, life-changing sex – “and then he and I go our separate ways. I lost my favorite suit, but – hell! – that's happened before, and Loki seemed perfectly happy to never see my face again!”

His voice had definitely not gone up an octave, nope.

Awkward, awkward silence, then, “Tony, are you okay?” He could feel Pepper's eyes on him, could read her discomfort out of the corner of his eye in the stiff way she held herself.

Tony grit his teeth in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Never better!” He pushed himself to his feet and made for the door. “Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day, Pepper. I'm off to get drunk off my ass and remind myself why I prefer the female body.”

He slammed the door behind him before Pepper could respond.

 

Loki was distracted as he climbed down, down the branches of Yggdrasil into the icy wasteland of Niflheim. Victor von Doom had requested his help for... something that had to do with alternative energy sources, and although Loki was rather partial to the idea of mass destruction in his current mood, he was still leery of being near the armored megalomaniac after that business with the clones. But most infuriating of all was that Loki kept finding his thoughts wandering to tony _tony **tony**_ and to that one moment when the stars had aligned and everything had been so very perfect for the first time in centuries. 

He is mortal, Loki had to remind himself. _Mortal!_ Here and gone in the blink of an eye, and it would not do to get attached, not now.

Loki suspected that it was already much too late for that but refused to admit it to himself.

His breath hovered in front of him in clouds of steam, and Loki trudged on, setting aside all thoughts of Tony and Victor as best he could. His boots crunched in the snow, and the watchdog of Helheim, Garm, watched Loki as he approached the gates into Hela's domain, licking at his muzzle. His fur was scraggly and matted with blood.

“Good morrow, Grandson,” Loki murmured, smiling softly as he buried a hand in the great dog's fur and scratched that sweet spot just behind his ear. Garm's tail thumped against the floor, and he leaned into Loki's touch. He flopped onto his side, and Loki passed into Helheim.

Gray, translucent spirits flit past, around, and through him, and Loki's footsteps echoed loudly in the stillness of death. The vaulted hallways were long and silent, and Loki was aware of countless eyes watching him. He smiled amicably as he entered the throne room, pointedly ignoring the empty stare of the Horseman lurking in the shadows.

“Greetings, Lady Hela,” he said as he ascended the steps to his daughter's throne. He twisted his fingers behind his back and conjured a bouquet of red flowers, which he held out to her with a shallow bow. Hela's smirk was an echo of her father's as she curled her hands around the stems and brought the petals to her face.

“Spider lilies,” she murmured, running a finger along a delicate petal. “My favorite.” Her eyes darted to his over the bouquet. “What have you done this time, Father?” Half of her face was masked, obscured, but Loki read genuine amusement in her smile.

“That's what I was going to ask you.”

She tilted her head in a question, setting down the flowers on the arm of her bone-white throne. “Explain.”

Loki paused, regarding his daughter with a sidelong stare. “The Horseman?” he prompted with an arched eyebrow. “Why has he been dogging my steps?”

Hela glanced at the Horseman skulking in the shadows and frowned in what looked like genuine puzzlement. She had not his flare for nor interest in duplicity, so Loki found himself echoing her confused expression. “He has not left my side, Father,” she said. “What are you playing at?”

Loki opened his mouth and closed it a few times. “You are certain?”

“Of course.”

Loki pursed his lips, mind awhirr with questions and half-answers. “Forgive me, my dear,” he said distractedly. “I must have been mistaken.” He kissed her hand and smiled. “Good day, Hela.”

“Good day, Father.” Hela watched him in bemusement as he turned to leave. 

Loki's heart thudded in his chest, his fists clenched at his sides as he reascended to Midgard. Unless his daughter was lying – why would she? – there was another Horseman, or something very close. He did not know how or why; all he knew was that Hela was not controlling it, which made it a very real danger. 

Where was it now? What did it want, and was it still after him?

Though he tried not to think about it, he remembered Tony, corpse-pale and dying, and knew that worry would gnaw at his thoughts until he checked on the idiot human.

 

Tony had no idea whose party this was. All he knew was that the drinks were good and that he had found a long-limbed blonde with green eyes and a crooked smile that felt like home. The come-ons were second nature, but he was not really paying attention and knew that he probably wouldn't have the heart to take her home with him regardless of his efforts. 

By his third drink, the music was a steady pulse in his ears, loud enough to deafen even his thoughts. By the fourth drink, Tony's head throbbed along with the beat, and he decided to look for the exit. Tony glanced over his shoulder to spare the blonde another wink before he took off. He stumbled through the door, cool air washed over his face, and he closed his eyes to sigh in relief.

“Well, that didn't take long.”

The smooth, familiar – _angry_ – voice was Tony's only warning before an invisible hand grabbed him by the lapels and flung him against the wall. He grunted as brick cracked against his skull. The pressure on his chest remained, keeping him pinned to the wall, and Tony opened his eyes to find Loki standing in front of him, the shadows accentuating the sharp contours of his face and making his eyes seem black.

“H-Hey, Loki,” he said as cheerily as he could. He smiled, but his eyes were wary. He honestly hadn't expected to see the Trickster again for a while and then only in fight, or something. Oh crap, was this a fight? If so, Tony was screwed.

Loki did not return the smile or the greeting. His eyes were cold, dark, ancient as he stared at Tony. When finally he spoke, his voice held those same qualities. “You don't waste time, do you?”

Tony's heartbeat throbbed in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Not even twenty-four hours out of my bed and already you're climbing into another's.” Loki's words were soft but over-enunciated, over-controlled. “You have a lot of gall, human.”

Tony's thoughts screeched to a halt and then backpedaled at double speed. Loki was upset because he had been coming-on to someone else? Even after Loki had...? _What_? “Wait... you're _jealous_?” Tony realized, fighting not to smirk.

Anger flashed through green-black eyes. “I'm _insulted_ ,” Loki growled. Now it was Loki's hand pinning Tony to the wall, and not in the fun, we're-gonna-make-out-now kind of way, much to Tony's disappointment. It was a bit unnerving, being reminded so clearly of Loki's superior strength, magical and physical. Last night, he could have snapped Tony like a twig, and yet... “I am a _god_! Do you honestly think you can do better?”

Now it was Tony's turn to feel insulted. “Oh, well, excuse me, Your Highness!” he sneered. Suit or no, he wasn't going to take this shit. “I did not realize that your penis was something all mortals dreamed of! Am I supposed to be _honored_ to be your fuck toy? Shall I kneel and worship, now?”

Loki snarled and drew back, pushing Tony away from him with a shove. The pressure was gone, both physical and magical, and Tony was able to stand on his own feet again, tensing to fight or run.

“That is _not_ what I meant!” Loki grumbled. His eyes darted away from Tony's. “I just did not think that you would treat this as another one of your meaningless one-night stands.”

One of...? Oh damn.

“I thought that's what it was.” He thought that's what Loki had wanted.

And then he realized that that had been the wrong thing to say.

When Loki looked back up, there was so much more in his glare besides anger. Tony saw that his eyes were over-bright with the threat of tears, and his heart soared and then crashed and burned in one blazing moment of epiphany. Tony closed his eyes and grit his teeth. He could kick himself for his _stupidity!_

“Loki,” he murmured. 

Loki's eyes flashed wild with hurt and rage, and he clenched his fists so hard that he shook. He looked like he could tear the world apart with his bare hands and not care. Tony suspected that he was staring his death in the face. 

He was less than surprised when Loki backhanded him in the face. It felt like being hit by a truck, and the impact sent him hurtling back into the wall, leaving him in an undignified sprawl on the alley floor. He groaned and blinked as he waited for the world to settle, and when he looked up, it was to see Loki stalking back down the alleyway.

Tony cursed and scrambled to his feet, lurching into the nearest wall and using it as a guide as he struggled to catch up with the god. “Wait, Loki!” he shouted. “Wait, please, just talk to me for a minute!” 

He should have realized. He should have _known._

Loki continued walking, a dark, stiff silhouette in the night. Tony reached for his arm, but Loki evaded.

“Do you _want_ this to be more?”

He did not know what answer he was hoping for.

Loki stopped and spun so quickly that Tony almost barreled into him. The god's eyes were fierce when they met Tony's, and his hands were clenched in white-knuckled fists again as though he were straining not to use them. Tony tried not to cringe.

“What did you _think_ I wanted?” Loki all but shrieked.

Tony stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I don't know,” he murmured. He reached up to Loki's face but found his hand on fire the next minute. 

“Don't _touch_ me!” 

Tony yelped and flapped his hand about in the air before patting it out against his suit. When he looked up, Loki was gone. 

“Dammit,” he cursed, clutching his throbbing hand. “ _Dammit_!”

He felt like a world-class asshole. 

Tony sank to the ground again. “Damn you sexy bipolar gods and your mixed signals,” Tony muttered as he fished out his phone. His face was starting to swell up where Loki's hand had met his cheek, and he winced as he brought the phone up to his ear.

 _“Hello?_ ”

“Yeah, hey, Pepper. Turns out you might want to add Loki to that list after all. Also, I need a ride. And some ice.”

 

Loki's boots echoed on stone he thought he'd never walk on again. Doom looked up from his reading. 

“Loki,” he all but purred. “What brings you to Latveria?”

“Spare me, Victor,” Loki snapped. The servants cringed away from him. “You know why I'm here.”

It was difficult to see with the iron mask in place, but Loki had learned to read Doom's expressions from his eyes alone and knew that the Latverian was smiling.


	18. Choices

Pepper chewed on the end of her glasses as she regarded Tony over the table, her eyes dark and intense and a small crease forming between her eyebrows. Tony realized that he didn't even know she _wore_ glasses and sighed dejectedly. As a friend, boyfriend, or whatever, he was crap at relationships.

“Are you going to say anything?” he groused after a while. He squirmed in his seat and scratched at the day's worth of stubble sprouting along his jaw. 

“Hang on,” Pepper lisped around the stem of her glasses. She twirled them in her fingers. “Still trying to digest all of this.”

Tony rolled his eyes and wondered if he really should have told her. She had said nothing after picking him up – again – after a... _disagreement_ with Loki, had said nothing at the sight of his black eye or the reek of alcohol. But this afternoon, when she had found him still lying in bed and staring at the wall, _that_ was when she had decided to sit him down (after getting him up) and had demanded Story Time.

While poking at the breakfast she had shoved under his nose, Tony had half expected a black cat with green eyes to jump onto the table and wordlessly demand he relinquish his bacon. The thought sent a bittersweet pang through his chest in the vicinity of his arc reactor. He couldn't force any food past the lump in his throat after that.

Pepper had watched and waited, questioned him about last night and about Loki, deflecting his deflections.

 _Just sleeping off a hang-over_ , he had told her concerned expression. _Why should I care about the God of Assholery?_

But she had replied, as calm and blunt as you please: _I don't know why, but obviously you do._

So Tony had told her: his long, only half-sober conversation with a strangely insecure Loki, their night together – “ _Really_ don't need the sordid details, thank you...” – Tony's misunderstanding and then Loki's misunderstanding of that misunderstanding.

Finally Pepper removed the glasses from between her teeth and set them down on the table with a _click_ that echoed in the tense silence. The chair creaked as she leaned back. “I can't believe I'm saying this,” she huffed, shaking her head at the ceiling, “but I think Loki actually has _feelings_ for you.”

“ _Feelings_ ,” Tony echoed with a grimace and an eyebrow tilted as if to say _oh please._

The crease between Pepper's eyebrows deepened, and she pursed her lips, giving him an unimpressed look. “Don't you think so?” she asked dryly.

“Hell, I don't know!” Tony griped. “Following his moods is like riding a see-saw.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at his now-cold plate of half-eaten eggs.

“This is Loki we're talking about. Stability not included.”

Tony muttered under his breath. All the more reason why it was disastrous for the two of them to be together; Tony wasn't exactly stable himself.

“The thing with Loki,” Pepper said softly, leaning over the table to catch Tony's eye, “is that you can't always trust what he says. The stuff he said to you is confusing and contradictory; he says he doesn't want to see you again and then says something about it _not_ being a one-night stand. So... listen to his actions, not his words.”

Tony frowned. “Like back-handing me into a wall?”

“Like,” Pepper continued, silencing Tony with a look, “sleeping with you and then getting upset when he sees you with another wom– er, someone else.”

Tony's frown deepened, but... 

“He wouldn't have reacted that way if he didn't care about you in some capacity,” Pepper said. “Seems to me like he's into you and just doesn't know how to handle it.”

A fraction of tension eased from Tony's shoulders as he mulled this over. And yet.

He _doesn't know how to handle it? Then how the Hell should_ I?

“That or you're overanalyzing this,” Tony muttered, “and he's just screwing with me. In more ways than one.” His lips quirked wryly at the bad pun.

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Would serve you right.”

Tony mustered up the energy to glare. Her smile turned apologetic.

“But what if I'm right?” she prodded gently. “Think about it. You have the rare opportunity to be a positive influence on a _super-villain_ here!”

Tony was still less than thrilled with the term “super-villain” in general, but she had a point. “What are you saying?” 

“I'm saying that you need to get off your ass and find him before he does something stupid.”

 

Loki smiled coyly over the rim of his wineglass, keeping his posture and demeanor calculatedly relaxed and unconcerned even as he catalogued every minute action and reaction from the armor-clad man at the other end of the table. He was achingly curious about the plan Victor kept hinting at, but this was a game of chess, mind to mind, move for move, and Loki knew better than to let all of that curiosity show. So he patiently sat through dinner and smalltalk with his sometime-ally, keeping his mind clear of – _tonystark_ – anything inconveniently distracting. Only after much of his food was gone and his glass half-empty did Loki ask the question that had been at the forefront of his mind all evening.

“So, Victor,” Loki said, setting down his glass with a _clink_ and spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger, “you mentioned an alternative power-source earlier?”

“Yes,” said Doom, and when he tilted his head just so, the shadows of his cowl fell across his eyes and closed even that tiny window to Loki's scrutiny. “As I said, it is of a nature that should deeply interest you.”

Loki tapped at his lower lip as he considered this. “Magical in nature, then?” he mused.

Doom chuckled, and it echoed strangely from behind his mask. Loki kept his face blank, hating how exposed he felt next to the masked man, every bend of his feature on display for scrutiny and dissection where Doom's was hidden. He thought of Tony then, of his voice, and how the human was honest and expressive enough that Loki could read his moods even behind _his_ metal mask. That thought set an ache in his chest that Loki told himself was festering anger. 

“More of a marriage between magic and science, I should think,” Doom answered. “But the fuel itself is, I suppose, magical at its essence.”

Loki allowed his interest to show in the faintest arch of one brow.

Doom folded his hands on the table in front of him and shifted enough for the light to fall back across his eyes, which glinted now with excitement and something... wicked. “A continuous power source,” he said, “which my magic can tap into. A living battery, almost.”

Something about his tone fired off a warning in Loki's mind. The shadows at the periphery of his vision seemed to shift, but when Loki glanced over his shoulder, he saw nothing. _Am I being paranoid?_ he wondered. 

No. With Doom, one was never “paranoid”, only over-prepared. 

Loki straightened in his seat and turned back to Doom. “Oh?” he prompted. “Do tell.”

“I was actually thinking more in terms of providing a... _demonstration_.”

Then Loki heard that hiss, that stuttering, percussive hiss he had come to dread, and he realized that Doom had had another chess piece all along. In a blink, he was up and reaching for his magic, but the shadows shifted and enveloped him. Claw-like fingers curled about his throat.

“Victor!” The gasping plea fell from his lips before he could think better of it.

Pain blossomed under those bone-white fingers, and the sickly-sweet stench of burnt flesh filled the air. Worse still than the blistering pain was the familiar but terrifying pull on Loki's soul, and he thrashed and screamed as panic burst like a supernova behind his eyes.

He had to remember... there was something... something had frightened off the creature last time.

For once, Loki was grateful to be Jotun as he willed a layer of ice to form on his skin. The creature wailed and flew back and away, releasing its hold on Loki, who gasped and crumpled to the floor in a heap of shaking, boneless limbs. He reached for his flagging magic again and sobbed in frustration when he could not organize his dizzied thoughts enough for a teleportation spell.

Loki tried to push himself up, but his arms and legs had forgotten how to work. The Horseman clone hovered at the far edge of the room, but then Doom's boots filled Loki's vision. Loki packed as much venom as he could into one glare as he looked up.

“S-so I'm y-your 'battery', a-am I?” he wheezed through a bruised throat and a jaw too weak to work properly. “A-a-an immortal sorcerer?”

Doom grabbed fistfuls of Loki's tunic and hauled him upright, pressing him back against a wall when the god slumped like a ragdoll. The very air seemed to crackle with energy around Doom. Loki's eyelids drooped and then flickered open.

“I am sorry about this, my dear.”

Loki did not have the energy to scoff. “Victor,” he murmured. His voice sounded far away even to him. He forced his lips up into a lopsided smile as he molded a trembling hand to the cold metal of Doom's mask. “I-I could give you p-power witho-o-out all this. Can't we come to s-some agreement?”

He made sure the curve of his grin was such that Doom would clearly understand his meaning. _I suppose I have a thing for men in metal suits_ , Loki would have said if speaking did not take so much effort.

A metal hand pressed against Loki's cheek in a mockery of affection, and the other splayed across his chest, pinning him to the wall and keeping him upright. “Oh, Loki, Loki,” Doom said softly, sweetly. “What is it you think you have that I could not just _take_ from you?” The hand on Loki's cheek fell to curl about Loki's injured throat and _press_.

Loki wheezed and clawed at the gauntleted hand, eyes wide and fixed on Doom's, which regarded him coldly and calmly. Black spots encroached on Loki's vision and still Doom _squeezed_. 

As Loki slipped into unconsciousness, faces swam in the periphery of his vision, faces he associated with warmth and safety: his mother, his brother... and Tony.

 

“Really, Jarvis. How hard is it to trace the only Frost Giant on Earth? A destructive, sorcerous, pigmy Frost Giant at that.” Tony paused to think that over, and his grip tightened against the keyboard. “Wait, he didn't leave Earth, did he?” _Oh God, what if he did?_ Tony wondered if he could convince Thor to let him use the Bifrost.

“Unlikely, sir,” Jarvis replied in that pleasant, patient voice that sounded just a bit condescending today. “But his magic has a distinctive signature, and I was able to trace it until a few hours ago. Then the signal all but disappeared.”

Tony chewed at the end of a pen and stared off into space as he considered, cataloguing every disastrous possibility. “Where was he just before the signal stopped?” he asked.

“Latveria, sir. In the vicinity of one Victor von Doom's castle.”

Tony scowled and cursed under his breath. The last thing he needed was Doom messing with Loki's head. 

“Sir?”

Tony brought himself back to the present. “Yeah?”

“I'm picking up on another distinctive energy signature in the same vicinity. It appears to be the Horseman, sir.”

Tony did not like where this was going. He sprang from his chair.

 

As engrossed as Thor was in watching _The Kardashians_ , he couldn't help but look up when Tony clomped into the room in full armor, his helmet under his arm and a grim look on his face.

“You,” Tony grunted.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. We're going to Latveria.”


	19. Stark Relief

It was a lesson in patience, watching the earth go by beneath him, centimeter by crawling centimeter. From this height, the buildings were toys, the people ants, like a cardboard diorama he could crunch with his foot.

Tony wondered if this was what Loki and Thor saw whenever they looked at Midgard, people and places so tiny, so fragile, and so damn insignificant. He blew out a shaky breath and decided not to think about it.

Then again, he could use a distraction, and even the quinjet was moving too _goddamn slow_. His hands were clammy inside his iron suit, making his gauntlets stick and slide against his skin in uncomfortable ways. 

Thank God for autopilot. Tony was altogether far too jittery to drive in a straight line, let alone fly this damned thing all the way to Europe. 

He flexed his fingers, stretched and shifted in his seat until he realized that Thor was watching him.

“What is that?” Thor asked. Tony followed his line of sight and realized that he was indicating the canister strapped to Tony's side.

“A precaution,” Tony said, quirking his lips in a grim smile. “Let's hope we don't need it.”

Thor's brow furrowed, but he nodded. “I thank you for this, you know,” he said. His voice seemed loud over the hum of the engine.

“Hmn?”

“For telling me that my brother is in danger and for accompanying me.” Thor's soft smile turned grim as he added, “Our brothers-in-arms are not always so understanding when it comes to Loki.”

Tony nodded, mostly because he had no idea how to respond to that. He wondered how Thor would react if he knew that Tony had slept with his little brother. Tony gulped and decided that what Thor didn't know couldn't make him murderously angry.

Tony assumed the conversation was over and turned to stare back out the window. He still felt the weight of Thor's stare, however, and turned reluctantly back. Thor was watching him now with a measuring, almost calculating glance that Tony was certain he must have picked up from Loki.

“You're not just coming for my benefit, are you?” the god asked, his voice as soft as Tony had ever heard it. “Did something happen between you two?”

Tony swallowed and turned to stare back out at the horizon. “I'm just trying to make things right, Thor,” he murmured. 

Thor watched him a moment longer but asked no more questions.

Tony hoped he wasn't too late.

 

Thor hefted Mjolnir and, for all intents and purposes, looked ready to storm the castle of Doomstadt head-on. Tony's sigh echoed inside his helmet, and he grabbed Thor by the elbow.

“Thor,” he said. “No.”

The hulking blonde warrior blinked at him like a confused puppy. “No?”

“No.” Dear Lord, if this was Thor's idea of diplomacy, then Tony could understand why Loki kept going off the deep-end. “Doom may be an evil psycho, but he's an evil psycho who happens to be king of Latveria. Much as I would _love_ to just waltz in there and smash his metal face in, we need to at least _try_ to avoid starting a war.”

Thor blinked in thought but nodded and lowered Mjolnir. “So what do you advise?”

“I dunno. I guess we just sneak in through a window or something.” He really should have thought this through. 

Thor's face tightened in a scowl. “The coward's way.”

Tony glared at the god but knew he couldn't see it behind his mask. “I believe the word you are looking for is 'efficient'.”

Thor sighed but said nothing.

“Anyway, Jarvis pulled up the schematics of the building for us. The laboratory is in the basement, and knowing Doom, that's, uh, probably where we will find Loki.”

Tony clenched his teeth and pretended not to notice Thor bristle. _Don't think about it_ , he told himself. _Just pretend like you have no idea what that means._

“Alright then,” he said just to dispel the loaded silence, “vamonos!”

Thor blinked. “What?”

“Va... let's go.”

 

Within five minutes, Tony and Thor had their first stare-down with a Doombot.

And a stare-down it was. The robot eyed them hollowly across the marble floor, and Thor eyed it back with a hand on Mjolnir. Tony held his breath and eyed them both.

After a long moment of intense nothingness, Thor licked his lips and leaned towards Tony. “It's not attacking,” he said. The crease between his brows deepened, but he kept his eye on the Doombot and his hand on Mjolnir.

 _Yes, wonderful observation, Thor_. “America's at peace with Latveria,” Tony reminded him. “I doubt the Doombots would threaten that peace without Doom's orders.” He shrugged and smiled shakily. “Should make things easier for us, hopefully.”

“And kidnapping Loki is not an act of war?” Thor growled, leveling another glare at the nearest Doombot.

“Loki's not American.”

Thor blinked. “Neither am I,” he said.

“You _weren't_ ,” Tony corrected. “Since you've joined the Avengers, you've become an official American citizen. Mazel tov.”

Thor blinked again. Twice. The robot continued to stare, menacingly motionless.

“Okay, just... just remember that _Loki_ is the priority, here. We can deal with Doom later.”

Thor's scowl deepened, but he nodded. Tony let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and readjusted the canister at his side.

“Okay, big guy,” he said with bravado he didn't feel. “Time for a lesson in coolness.” Tony patted the god's arm, and Thor gave him a sidelong glance. “Act like you're meant to be here, and everyone will assume you are.” Tony squared his shoulders and sauntered past the Doombot without so much as a second glance. Tony just hoped this theory worked on murderous robots as well.

Thor sighed and shook his head but followed without comment. The robot's stare followed them, but the robot itself did not.

So far so good.

 

Stealth was definitely not one of Thor's strong suits, but somehow they made it to Doom's laboratory with minimal difficulty. Thor seemed rather pleased with this accomplishment, but Tony knew that nothing was ever that simple. He had a feeling the shit was about to hit the fan.

The soft exhalation of “ _Gods!_ ” next to him was his first clue that something was amiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tony wondered why the gods would use themselves for their oaths but then decided that that was a question for another time.

Tony glanced at Thor's stricken expression and then followed his line of sight. 

Tony almost didn't see him in the mess of tubing and wires, but there was Loki, dwarfed by machinery and laid out in a mockery of sleep. A tube down his throat was pumping oxygen into his lungs, and the shadows under his eyes were dark against pale, almost-translucent skin. 

Somewhere inside his helmet, Jarvis reminded Tony to breathe.

“Brother.” More of a gasp than a word or a whisper.

Tony looked at Thor and waited for the carnage to begin. Instead Mjolnir slipped from the god's hand to the floor with a thunk, and Thor hovered over Loki, hands outstretched over his brother but failing to land, blue eyes wide and open and lost, like a child's.

Tony crept to his side and waited.

“By Yggdrasil, brother,” Thor murmured. “What did that fiend do to you?”

Still Tony waited and...

There.

Thor's eyes narrowed, glittering blue and fierce as his hands clenched into fists. He hefted Mjolnir.

“Thor.”

“I will _kill_ him!”

“ _Thor_.”

The god glanced at Tony.

“Loki is the priority,” Tony reminded him. “We need to get him out of here and get him some medical attention. Doom can wait.”

Killing Doom was incredibly tempting, but more than anything, in that moment, Tony wanted to tear off the wiring and tubing that stuck out of Loki like alien appendages. More than anything, he wanted to see those eyes open, to have Loki scoff and call him an idiot, to tell him that this was all another prank.

That he was okay.

Oh God, please let him be okay.

Thor looked at Tony, eyes pained and helpless as he nodded and stepped back. Tony leaned over Loki in his place and tried to work out how best to extricate his – to extricate _Loki_ from this mess, but it would help if he could remember how to think.

“Shit,” he murmured, cradling one delicate, long-fingered hand in his and plucking the needles from Loki's veins one at a time, cursing himself for the way his fingers shook. It felt disconcertingly intimate, seeing Loki like this, frail and fragile, eyelashes long, dark, and still against too-pale cheeks. Tony felt something between an ache and a spreading warmth in the vicinity of his arc reactor as he watched Loki's face, smooth, still, and young in a way that it never was in wakefulness, and he could understand Thor's tenderness and protectiveness towards his troublesome brother in that moment. He didn't notice the way his hand lingered a touch too long on Loki's or the way his thumb rubbed soothing circles along Loki's knuckles.

Tony reached for Loki's other hand and made to pull out the next batch of needles, when –

“That might not be the best idea. Unless, of course, you _want_ to kill him.”

The voice was dark and cultured and decidedly Not Thor's. 

Tony closed his eyes and bit back a groan. He released Loki's hand and turned with clenched fists to glare at Victor von Doom, who stood now in the doorway, body clad in iron and a green cloak and tunic – really, what was it with self-professed super-villains and the color green? – and stared back at Tony, from one armored mask to another. Next to and behind him, dead-eyed robots stood in silent vigil.

“What did you do?” Thor asked through grit teeth, his knuckles white around Mjolnir.

“Yeah,” Tony spat, surprised by the depth of his own anger, “isn't it time for the villain's exposition?”

“Villain?” Doom echoed, sounding somewhere between offended and amused. “Aren't you the ones skulking about and breaking into my home?”

“You're the one who kidnapped my brother!” Thor all but roared.

“Kidnapped?” Doom laughed. “Your brother came here of his own volition. I'd hardly call that 'kidnapping'.”

“It is if you can't _leave_ ,” Tony muttered.

Doom scrutinized them both in silence for a long moment. “Then take him,” he said blithely. “I have what I need, and while I enjoyed the silence, the world is a much... _duller_ place without Loki. I will not stop you.”

Tony and Thor exchanged sidelong glances.

“Unfortunately, “ Doom continued, “those machines are all that is keeping Loki alive so long as the Horseman is siphoning off his magic. A shame, really.” 

Tony swallowed and straightened. “Right,” he said. “Then where is the Horseman?” Doom tilted his head, and Tony felt more than saw his eyes upon him.

“Oh, somewhere in the building, I imagine, Mr. Stark,” Doom answered. “But that brings up another interesting point. I was prepared for _his_ anger.” Doom indicated Thor with a wave of his gauntleted hand. “But not yours.”

Tony felt his mouth go dry. “And?” he ground out.

“Oh, nothing,” Doom replied. “I am merely... _intrigued_ , is all, considering you risked creating quite the diplomatic mess for the sake of someone I thought was your enemy. Are you really willing to risk World War III for his sake?”

Tony said nothing, but he could feel Thor's stare, blue eyes spelling the same questions Doom was tiptoeing around. 

Seeing no answer forthcoming, Doom chuckled and turned to go. “I'll leave you to it, then,” he called over his shoulder. “Happy hunting.”

The Doombots followed in his wake, metal feet clanking against stone floor. Eventually, their footsteps faded, and the only sound was the mechanical whirr of the machine breathing for Loki.

“Jarvis,” Tony said into the stillness. “Locate the Horseman.” 

“Of course, sir,” came the automated reply. A layout of the castle overlaid his vision, while Thor watched him and waited.

“Third floor,” Tony told him after a moment, his expression grim under his metal mask. He unhooked the canister from his belt, forcing himself not to look at Loki again or to acknowledge the concern he felt over leaving him alone. “Time to kick some Horseman ass.”


	20. To the Rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that updating in the morning is better for my sanity (and thus yours) than updating just before bed, since... I tend to just... fall asleep before I can finish the update. :|
> 
> SO YEAH.

On the third floor, Tony eyed each shadow that slanted across the floor, hardly daring to blink. Every darkened corner seemed to hold a pair of sinister eyes and bone-pale hands, and he often had to remind himself to breathe. Next to him, Thor's stance and footsteps echoed his own.

Tony's blood hummed in his veins with a thrill somewhere between fierce joy and terror that reminded him of flying, of car races, and that he had grown to love and crave. He felt most alive in these moments, ironically when his life was most in danger, and from the gleam in his eye, so did Thor. Tony wondered if that was what _really_ separated the so-called superheroes and villains from the general populace, the all-consuming need to chase moments of indelible stupidity and the lack of forethought that most people mistook for bravery. 

The Avengers could certainly never be accused of over-thinking things.

Tony imagined Loki scoffing and calling him an idiot, and his small smile turned bitter. He didn't know how long Loki had or if he was even safe down in the laboratory alone, and Tony realized that this chase wasn't all that fun after all.

Thor saw it first.

“There!” 

The barely discernible slide of black on black, the wisp of familiar smoke that curled around a corner up ahead.

Then Tony heard it, the stuttering hiss like escaping steam. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears.

“Follow it,” Tony said, giving the schematics another once-over. “I'll circle around so we can flank it.”

Thor nodded and ran down the hallway, cloak and hair billowing out behind him as Tony cut down the nearest left. 

Tony hefted the canister in one hand, and the sweat lining his palms made his gauntlets slide and stick uncomfortably against his skin. When he heard the stuttering hiss up ahead, he ducked into an alcove and waited, one hand poised on the canister's trigger. 

He blinked the sweat from his eyes. He thought of Loki and drew in a shaky breath. 

“You better appreciate this, you bastard,” he muttered.

The hissing grew closer, and wisps of smoke trailed towards him. He had to time this perfectly...

Tony spun out of his alcove and took aim at the smoky, flat-eyed creature, only to start in surprise as a great roar announced Thor's presence. Tony caught a glimpse of blonde hair over the Horseman's indistinct form, and then a swinging hammer parted the smoke. The Horseman shrieked and Tony cursed, pulling his finger off the trigger.

Then the Horseman, unscathed even by the mighty Mjolnir, turned on Thor.

“Get back!” Tony shouted. Thor stumbled back in time to avoid the Horseman's claw-like hands but was forced to continue to backpedal when each swipe of Mjolnir swung harmlessly through smoke. Tony caught sight of Thor's wild-eyed stare and cursed under his breath.

“It's not working!” Thor shouted, and Tony again applauded his grasp of the obvious. Tony pursed his lips and followed the Horseman following Thor, pointer finger again resting on the canister's trigger.

“Thor, listen to me,” Tony called out over the Horseman's ear-splitting shrieks and hisses. “I need you to drop to the floor. Now!”

“Tony, I –!”

“ _Now_ , Thor!”

All six feet of thunder-god fell to the floor, limbs splayed and face pressed to stone. Tony pulled the trigger.

Liquid nitrogen sprayed out of the canister, freezing on contact with the semi-corporeal creature. Black smoke mingled with white steam, and the Horseman's angry shrieks turned shocked and pained. Once Tony released the trigger, Thor pushed himself up onto one knee and swung Mjolnir through the creature with both hands. What was left of the Horseman shattered in a spray of frozen dust.

The canister fell to the floor with a hollow clunk, and Thor looked up at Tony with admiration.

“Just a precaution, you say?” he panted, lips quirked in a wry grin.

“Yeah,” Tony said with a shaky laugh. “Guess sometimes it pays to be a science nerd.”

Thor smiled though Tony doubted he knew what he meant.

 

“It won't be long now, my dear,” Doom murmured, smiling grimly at the still-silent Loki. He pressed a long-remembered combination of buttons on the machine to Loki's left; a cabinet opened, and a tray of vials slid into view. 

“I have no desire to deal with your brother's famous wrath.” 

Doom plucked up the tray and turned to eye Loki one last time. He had a private jet waiting to take him far from Latveria and a pair of vengeful Norse gods. Just for a few days.

“Until next time.”

 

Tony's eyes were gritty from staring, and again he found himself grateful for autopilot. In accordance with the laws of time, the trip back seemed to go by faster, somehow, but knowing that Loki was in the back, unconscious and barely breathing, didn't make the return trip any easier on his nerves.

The memory of unhooking Loki from those machines was still fresh in his mind, and he remembered the soul-stopping relief he had felt upon feeling the weak flutter of Loki's pulse under his fingers.

Tony glanced over his shoulder towards the back, where Thor sat vigil over Loki.

“How is he?” he asked.

Thor frowned down at his brother, one long, pale hand held in his. “The same.”

Tony nodded, wanting to say more but not knowing what.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

A loaded pause, and then, “How did you know that Loki needed our help in the first place?”

Tony cringed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Thor got suspicious, but he wished that Doom hadn't started asking all the right damn questions.

“I told you,” he said evenly, neutrally. “Jarvis told me – ”

“But why was Jarvis even _looking_ for Loki in the first place?”

Tony felt Thor's stare boring into the back of his head. He fought the urge to squirm.

“Tony,” Thor said, his tone harder than it had been but still – thankfully – friendly. “I've delved through enough lies and half-truths from my brother. You do yourself no favors in withholding truths from me.”

Tony swallowed thickly. “Look, Thor,” he said. “I'm not 'withholding truths' from you. I'm just... Things have been complicated between Loki and me since the whole, you know, cat thing. I'm... really not sure how to answer.” He picked at a few grains of dirt along the dashboard.

The sound of footsteps, and then Thor was standing in the periphery of Tony's vision. Thor clapped a hand on the back of Tony's seat and leaned forward to eye his fidgeting friend. “Try,” he said. He smiled, but there was a hint of steel in his expression.

“You, uh... you really should stay seated, Thor – ”

“Tony.”

“...okay.” Tony considered crashing the jet just to end this conversation. He cleared his throat and glanced in Thor's general direction but avoided eye-contact. “You... know about the whole hostage thing the other day, right?”

“Indeed,” Thor answered slowly.

Here goes nothing. “Well... Loki and I may have, uh...” Tony made a vague, aborted motion with his hand. He cleared his throat. “We may have slept together. Please don't hurt me.”

Tony tensed, waiting for the roar of fury and the impact of a hammer or a fist against his skull. All he got was tense silence, which, in some ways, was worse. Finally, Tony worked up the courage to look Thor in the eye. The god's face was tight but pensive.

“Why would I hurt you?” he asked.

Tony blinked. “Why – ? Well, you're his big brother, aren't you?”

A crooked grin split Thor's face. “He's hardly a blushing maiden, Tony,” he chuffed. “Believe you me, he could do – and _has_ done – much worse.” Thor grimaced and stared out at the sky.

Tony paused to process this. “Um, thanks?”

Thor folded his arms and eyed Tony again. “So what is he to you, then?”

Tony swallowed and shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

Thor regarded him for a moment longer. After a while, his lips quirked at some private thought. “I think you do,” he said. “Or you wouldn't have risked – how did Doom put it? – 'World War III' for his sake.”

Thor patted Tony's shoulder and turned to head back to Loki. “Oh, and, Tony?” His hand lingered too long and the fingers dug in too much to be entirely friendly. “If you hurt him...” He trailed off meaningfully, menacingly. 

“Yeah,” Tony answered sheepishly. “Yeah, I know.”

Though chances are he'd have more to fear from _Loki_ in that instance. Thor chuckled and released Tony's shoulder. 

Tony thanked whatever gods were listening that he managed to survive that conversation.

 

Loki was certain he was screaming. His ears rang with the sound, and his throat felt scraped raw. But he couldn't feel his lips or his tongue or anything for that matter, so “certain” was probably not the best word. He was adrift in a sea of white, of black, of all and no color... floating, swimming, and drowning.

Now that he thought of it, he wasn't even certain he was breathing. 

Panic swelled up from where he knew his chest to be, though his insides felt scooped out, hollow, and he wasn't even sure he had a chest _to_ feel.

Something – everything – was wrong. Someone had crossed the wires in his brain, somehow. He could taste the give of a mattress beneath him, could hear the swirls of color around him, and could see the vibration of sound behind his eyelids. 

Loki was certain he was screaming... or at least that he would if he could.

After lifetimes of the tangled nothingness, Loki registered a new sensation, the rasp of something like skin on skin. Fingertips, he realized with an effort. Icy cold against his cheek. He was drowning and burning all at once and he didn't he couldn't he wanted – 

A new vibration of sound, this time in his ears, thank the Norns, and Loki felt parts of his addled brain realigning, finally, finally.

 _Help me,_ he wanted to say. _I can't breathe! The fire burns, and the smoke is choking, choking, choking..._

Another sound. Familiar, two syllables. A name.

 _His_ name.

Another piece clicked into place, and he recognized the sounds of “lo” and “ki” and remembered how they fit together to make _him_.

Another brush of fingertips, this time against his forehead. Water trickled from his hairline. Sweat, he realized. His skin itched so bad it burned. He felt like he had been turned inside out.

“Loki.”

His name, then more sounds. His ears took years to translate: _can_ and _you_ and _hear_ and _me_. A question.

Feeling returned to the rest of him, and he realized that his lips were moving and his eyes were open. But he couldn't see, and he couldn't draw in enough air to speak.

More skin to skin, this time palm to cheek, the drag of a thumb back and forth across a cheekbone, refreshingly cool. Suddenly, he remembered what it was like to breathe, and he drew in great, gasping, rattly breaths, because he had been drowning.

He didn't realize he had sat up until there were hands pressing him down. Loki marveled how he could have forgotten what “down” meant. More water – sweat – trickled down his neck and back, and Loki felt his body shivering, his teeth chattering. 

Then he blinked, and his eyes remembered that they were responsible for sight. The colors rocked and swam, and Loki screwed his eyes shut until his stomach stopped churning. 

“Loki?”

He opened his eyes, and his brain supplied _Tony_ before the colors even resolved into their proper shapes. He stared and strained to focus, watching lines of worry smooth over into a crooked smile on Tony's face. Loki's lips finally stilled, and he remembered what it was like to hold the reins on his body.

He was feverish, he realized, shivering and covered in sweat.

“Hey,” Tony murmured. “Good of you to join us.”

 _Tony_ , he tried to say, but all that came out were nonsense syllables.

“Don't try to talk, just... just hang in there, okay?”

Tony started to slip away, and the lines and colors started to double and blur. _Don't go_ , Loki wanted to say, but his voice still wouldn't cooperate. 

He slid back into nothingness.


	21. Succumb

When Loki next opened his eyes, sunlight cut across his vision with a clarity he had forgotten existed. He pushed himself up to a sit, and his stomach and arm muscles ached and shook. His... _sleep_ must not have been a restful one.

He looked around the room, at the clean, modern lines and spartan furnishings, and realized that all of it was familiar. The Stark mansion, his brain supplied. The room he had inhabited after his last brush with the Horseman.

Speaking of which...

Oh. 

_Oh._

_That_ was what happened. Loki pursed his lips, dug long fingers into the sheets and felt the stiff fabric crinkle. Oh, Victor, Victor, Victor. He was going to regret ever having been born.

He reached for his magic and sighed when he felt almost nothing. He was practically mortal at the moment, uncommonly vulnerable and in the home of his greatest enemies of all places. Yet he knew he was safer here than he had ever been in the home of one of his supposed allies. Loki blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, which was stringy with dried sweat, and crinkled his nose in disgust.

Were he any less stubborn, Loki would probably pause to reconsider his definition of the word “enemy”. As it was, he allowed the more pressing needs of his bladder to occupy his full attention. If he remembered correctly, there was a bathroom in the adjoining room.

He pushed himself to his feet. He didn't expect the world to lurch thirty degrees.

“Oh dear.”

 

Pepper muttered to herself as her fingers danced over her tablet. She paused to press at the knot of tension coiling in her forehead and sighed as she tried to figure out how best to deal with all the – 

She checked in on Loki just in time to see him sway and topple over with a crash.

Pepper drew in a sharp breath and tossed her tablet onto the sheets, rounding the bed as quickly as she could in a pencil skirt and heels. Loki was pushing himself back into a sit, eyes owlish and glazed. Pepper crouched by him and checked him over for any injuries.

Aside from some rug burn and a bruised pride, he seemed fine. Relatively, anyway.

 _God_ , what was her life like that this all seemed perfectly normal to her?

“You okay?” she asked. That was the sort of thing you asked people who have just fallen on their asses, even if said ass belonged to the God of Mischief. Loki shook himself and blinked, looking at her as though only just realizing she was there. He stared at her for a long moment, brows furrowed in concentration and eyes mostly unfocused.

“Pepper,” he finally said as though in answer to some question. His voice was little more than a rasp, and Pepper winced in sympathy.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, firmly and more slowly. She fought back a smile at Loki's dazed expression.

“Oh,” he mumbled distractedly, scratching his head. “Yes, yes.”

“Then maybe you should get back into bed?”

Loki's brow furrowed again. He looked up at her. “I have to pee,” he said simply.

“Oh.” Pepper wasn't sure how else to respond to that. “Right, uh...”

She chewed her lip and looked at him, clad only in a pair of Tony's boxers, legs sprawled out in front of him, and wondered how she was going to transport him the few remaining feet. She glanced at the doorway.

“Why don't I get Thor or To –?”

“No.”

A hand on her wrist, green eyes clear and wide. 

“Okay,” Pepper said quickly, holding up her hands palm-out. “Just trying to help!”

She really needed to ask Tony for a raise.

Loki sighed and released her wrist. “I'll be fine, just...”

He grabbed hold of the bed-frame and clambered to his feet. Pepper watched him closely, watched his face turn gray and watched him wobble back a step. She caught his elbow to steady him, and he paused with one hand flat on the wall. He frowned at her but said nothing.

Pepper sighed and tried not to roll her eyes. God or not, men were always too proud to ask for help. Good to know some things carried over into immortality.

She guided him to the doorway, one slow step at a time. “Okay,” she said as she turned the knob, “this is where my help ends.”

Pepper motioned at the toilet, and Loki blinked and nodded. She watched him wobble into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving it slightly ajar in case he needed anything. 

 

Pepper poked her head in a room a few doors down from Loki. Tony and Thor looked up from Mario Kart.

“He's awake.” There was another resounding _crash_ from Loki's room. Pepper winced. “Ish.”

 

The tile felt cool against his cheek. The past minutes were spotted and grainy, but he remembered being sick and “kneeling before the porcelain throne,” as Tony would put it. He should move, he knew, but the world spun when he tried and the tile felt good against his fevered skin.

A knock and then, “Loki?”

A male voice.

The line of light across the floor widened, and then there was the warmth of a body kneeling next to him. A callused hand on his shoulder and then the back of his neck.

“Tony?” Loki slurred.

“No, Loki. It's me.”

Loki squinted up at the dark shape above him, and watched long blonde hair spill over one massive shoulder. Loki closed his eyes and groaned.

“Come.”

A hand on his arm, an arm around his waist, and Loki felt himself pulled to his feet, moved about like a ragdoll. His stomach heaved at the change in elevation, and then Loki was back on his knees, dry heaving into the toilet.

“It's okay,” Thor murmured over and over, rubbing soothing circles across Loki's shoulder-blades.

“Is it?” Loki rasped waspishly. “Would you like to trade places?”

A chuff, and then, “Don't snap at _me_ , Loki. I'm not the one who did this to you.”

“I can snap at whomever I please,” Loki muttered mulishly. At the moment, that meant anyone in sniping distance.

Thor chuckled and pulled him to his feet again, this time more slowly. He all but carried Loki back to bed. He smiled at Loki's curses and insults.

“Do not read too much into this, brother,” Thor said as he helped Loki sit up against the headboard, “but 'tis good to hear you speak.”

Loki frowned, gaze skittering to the side. The idea of Thor – or anyone else for that matter – seeing him in such a state was humiliating, at best.

He hated that he immediately thought of Tony, the fool...

The fool who had looked for him and saved his life. Dammit.

“Oh, I trust you'll be regretting those words soon enough,” Loki replied with a tight smile.

“Perhaps.” Thor regarded his brother for a long moment. “Do you – ?”

“Just go, Thor.” Loki stared at the wall, keeping his expression closed off. His voice had come out softer, wearier than he would have liked.

A long, heavy pause, and then, softly, resignedly, “Very well.”

Loki didn't look up as Thor left him alone with his thoughts.

 

Tony was not surprised to see Loki padding down the hall in borrowed clothes, his face pale and drawn but his eyes sharp and alert. Tony folded his arms, leaned back against the door and cleared his throat, watching as Loki flinched and drew to a stop.

God, he hoped he was ready for this confrontation.

“And where do you think you're going?” Tony asked with authority he did not feel. He studied the sharp angles of Loki's profile, watched his eyelashes flicker as he looked at everything but Tony.

“I have not yet decided,” Loki said, clearing his throat when his voice rasped. “Anywhere but here will be fine.”

Tony ignored the bite in those words and smiled. This was the moment of truth. “No,” he said simply.

Loki's eyes finally landed on his, sharp and green and questioning. “What?” One word, tone flat but dangerous.

“No,” Tony repeated with a shrug. “You're still recovering.”

Loki stared at him for a long moment and then scoffed. “Like you could keep me here,” he sneered.

“Oh, I can,” Tony blithely rejoined. His heart was thudding in his chest, but he would not let Loki know that. “With your magic all but nonexistent right now and a veritable army at my back, yeah. Yeah, I can.”

Loki's lips pressed into a thin line.

Tony was pissing off the God of Mischief. Yup, self-destructive tendencies still very much in place.

“I just want to talk,” Tony added softly. He stayed leaning against the door, the very image of indifference, but held his breath and waited.

Tony could not identify half the emotions that flit through those startling eyes before Loki could school them back into blankness. Loki pulled at a seam in his borrowed shirt.

“Well, I don't. Good day, Mr. Stark.” He walked past Tony without a second glance.

Asshole. 

So predictable.

Tony pursed his lips, grabbed Loki by the arm and spun him back into the wall. Loki grunted in surprise and glared at Tony, obviously chagrined that he didn't have the strength even to pull his arm free.

“I don't think you get it, Loki,” Tony said, his expression as stern and impenetrable as his iron mask. “This time, you are _my_ hostage, and you will shut up and listen to me for a minute.”

Loki clenched his jaw but dared not argue. He stared at Tony, at the grim set of his jaw and the fierceness in his eyes, and a cross between fear and excitement thrilled in his stomach. Tony was still holding Loki's arm, firmly but not hard enough to bruise, and their faces were mere inches apart. Tony wanted to touch the sharp angles of that face.

“Alright,” Loki muttered. Tony's grip loosened, but neither moved to put any distance between them. Tony eyed Loki, noted his dark eyes and flushed face, and smirked.

“You're turned on by this, aren't you?” he asked. Loki bristled. Pursing his lips, he pushed Tony back and took a few steps away.

“No,” he snapped. Tony was not convinced but gave him his space. “Well? If you have something to say, then say it.” He stared Tony down and waited.

Tony couldn't match the hardness in Loki's eyes so he looked at his feet, putting his hands in his pockets. 

“Look,” he said. “I'm sorry.” When he looked up, Loki's eyes had narrowed but otherwise his expression was still as stone.

“For what, exactly?” Loki asked in a steely voice.

Tony winced. Dammit. Loki wasn't going to make this easy on him. 

“For the... well, for being an ass, for one,” he began. “And for the... for that thing with that girl at that bar.”

Loki scowled. “How eloquent,” he muttered.

Tony bit back a frustrated groan. “Look, Loki,” he said, “this sort of thing isn't easy for me. I'm no speechwriter, I know. I'm just – God, how do I say this without sounding like a dork?”

“Just spit it out!”

“I want to be with you!” Tony said in a rush. “God help me. You've got to be the most self-centered prat I've ever met, you drive me insane, but, damn it, nothing in this world seems worthwhile unless you're there.”

Oh man. He couldn't believe he had just said all that gooey crap. Worse, he couldn't believe he'd meant it. Tony held his breath, feeling torn open, vulnerable and exposed.

Loki's eyes widened marginally, and his hands slipped to his sides. He looked to the side as he said, “And the girl?”

“Was just a distraction because I thought you were done with me.”

Loki did not seem completely convinced, but he relaxed inch by tightly wound inch. Tony allowed himself to breathe and to hope. “What makes you think I wasn't?” Loki asked, obviously struggling to keep his voice cold.

Tony took a few wary steps towards him, dark eyes locked on green. _Careful now, Tony_ , he told himself. _One wrong step and you'll end up with your manly bits on fire. Again._

“Your reaction,” he said. “when you saw me with that woman.” Loki shifted uncomfortably, and Tony smirked, just a bit. “Now please, just... for once be honest with me. Do you want to... _be_ with me?”

Because “do you want to be my boyfriend?” just sounded so... weird. Here he was, Tony Stark, enemy of all things related to commitment, offering to commit to the God of Trickery. And for some reason that just seemed so... _right._

His life was so fucked up.

Loki passed a hand over his eyes. “Tony, I can't – ”

“I didn't ask if you 'could' or 'should' be with me. Do you _want_ to?”

Loki searched Tony's eyes, and his expression just looked so trapped and childishly vulnerable that Tony reached out to cup his cheek before he could think better of it. Loki sighed wearily but leaned into the touch, bringing up long fingers to lace with Tony's. “Yes,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I... _want_ to, Norns help me. But I can't.” Loki blinked as though waking from a dream and moved away from Tony's hand.

Tony frowned, searching Loki's face and trying to understand. “What do you mean, 'can't'?” he asked.

Loki sighed and shook his head, suddenly looking old and inhumanly tired. “You are mortal,” he said. “I am not. I do not want to... get attached.” He looked immensely uncomfortable just saying the words.

“Oh.” Tony hadn't really thought of that. Suddenly Loki's contradictory behavior made so much more sense. “Well, you know, we don't have to think that far ahead just yet.” He reached out to grasp Loki's hand and held it between them, thumb rubbing circles into the back of his fingers. Loki let him, studying the contrast between their skin. “I mean, I'm not asking you to marry me or anything.” Tony banished the mental image of Loki in a white dress. “I just want to see where this goes, one step at a time. One _day_ at a time. We can cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Loki smiled softly, sadly.

“Please?” Tony surprised himself by saying. “Chances are, we'll date for a few weeks or months, then I'll do something to piss you off and you'll throw me out a window. Doesn't mean we can't enjoy the sex between now and then.”

Loki chuckled, and his gaze was unusually soft as he looked at Tony. Loki hooked his fingers in the front of Tony's shirt, the glow of the arc reactor backlighting his hand, and pulled the human to him, so that they were standing nose to nose and hip to hip.

Tony wrapped his arms about Loki's waist, and his lips moved against Loki's as he asked, “Is that a yes?”

Loki chuffed and smirked. “For now,” he said. “Mostly because I don't think you've thought through how Fury is going to react to this, and I find that funny.”

Oh yeah. He was right, but... well, Tony would rather focus on something other than Fury right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue to tie up loose ends, and then we're done with Nine Lives!
> 
> BUT. :]
> 
> NL is only the first of what will be at least a three-part series. The next one will be called _The Devil You Know_ , so keep an eye out for that. ;)


	22. Epilogue

It was the late shift, and Brianna the barrista was wiping down the counter with one eye on the clock. Twenty minutes to closing time, and then this living-hell of a day would be over and she could curl up on the couch with her boyfriend to watch sad MTV reality shows that made her feel comparatively normal and well-adjusted.

At quarter of, she started to pack up early when the glass doors swung open and a pair of drunken idiots stumbled inside, laughing far too loudly and far too happily considering the late hour.

Figures.

Brianna sighed and cut a look at Brian, who was too busy making a straw fort in the back to care one way or the other. Because her manager thought it was _cute_ to team up “Brianna and Brian” whenever possible. Whatever. She rolled her eyes and stepped up to the counter, baring her teeth in an approximation of a smile.

The borderline hostile “how-can-I-help-you-assholes?” caught in her throat.

“Assss... asssk her fer allthemuffins again.”

Leaning on the counter was a giggling Tony Stark. Leaning on Tony Stark was a giggling Loki. They smelled of sweat and alcohol and... was Loki wearing _Mardi Gras beads_?

“Oh... migod,” Brianna said, because – really – what else do you say in that situation? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brian edging closer.

Tony mumbled something into Loki's ear, which sent the green-eyed god into a fit of snickers.

“Uh. Can I... _help_ you?” She glanced at Brian, who was standing next to her now, eyeing the scene with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow.

“Oh. Oh, yeah, sorry,” Tony slurred. He cleared his throat and straightened as though just remembering that he was out in public. “We jusss... we juss came back from N'Orleans, and... and s'crazy down there, and we thought... we thought. Y'know whass awesome? _Muffins_.”

Brianna opened her mouth to speak, only to realize that she really had no words for this.

Loki had an arm around Tony's shoulders, and his eyes seemed to glow as he looked at the man next to him. Finally, he glanced at her and then stared at Brian as though only seeing him for the first time. He smiled toothily, almost predatorily.

“Why, hello, Brian!” Loki said far too sweetly.

“Yes. Hello, Loki,” Brian answered wearily. Brianna bit her lip.

“I'm dreadfully sorry about last time,” Loki said, over-enunciating his words. It was hard to believe the gorgeous asshole when he was smirking like that. “I wasn't aware that a grown man could cry quite so much.”

“Yeah. I'm sure you are.” Brian's tone said he was anything but. “So what can I get you _this_ time?”

“This time,” Loki said sweetly, “I would like a non-fat, decaf, sugar-free, iced-expresso-java-mocha-latte-frappuccino.”

“But... but that's not even a real – ”

“ _Make it work, minion_!”

Brian looked close to tears again. Tony and Loki were too busy making out to notice, and Brianna was too busy recording said making-out on her phone to care. Brian grimaced and mumbled something about sanitation or the lack thereof, but Brianna waved him off with her free hand.

“Jess is so going to wish she had taken this shift,” she all but squealed.

“Ugh,” Brian tsked, turning to scowl at the nearest coffee maker. “What the hell do I give Your Highness over there?”

“Just make them whatever,” Brianna told him, sotto voce. “Right now, you could hand them a sousaphone and tell them it's coffee and they'd believe you. Plus I think Loki's mouth is too preoccupied for coffee right now.”

Brianna blushed and giggled as Loki got to third base.

“How much you think a tabloid would pay for these pictures?”

 

Doom decided that now was a good time to catch up on his reading. The tropical heat and sun were like a caress on his scarred skin, and he could at last relax here, on his private island, a world away from Latveria and its troubles.

As the hours passed, he relaxed further, until his book and eyes fell closed, lulled by the warmth and the stillness.

He dozed.

Until he heard a percussive hiss that his sleep-drugged mind told him he should recognize, and a shadow fell over him, leaving him suddenly chilled. Doom snapped awake, muscles tensing and hands groping for anything to use as a weapon. He felt exposed like this, without his armor and his mask. Open. _Vulnerable._

The shadow that fell across Doom's face had a pair of horns, and he looked up to see Loki standing over him, fully cloaked and armored, chin held high. He smiled, but his eyes were cold.

Doom felt his mouth run dry.

“Loki,” he rasped.

“Good day to you, Victor.” Loki's voice held that honey-sweet quality Doom knew spelled Trouble. “Pardon me for interrupting your vacation – I _do_ know how hard you work – but I have an old friend here who has been _dying_ to meet you since our last little... _incident_.”

Loki's smile was more like a baring of teeth. The smile of a wolf or a serpent.

“I believe you remember the Horseman?” Loki gestured with one long hand, and the cluster of shadows behind him coalesced into a shape that Doom knew too well. “The _real_ Horseman, of course.”

A face as pale as death stared out at him, and Doom felt his blood run cold.

 

Once he was satisfied with Doom's shrieks and pleas for mercy, Loki stopped by to thank Hela on his way home.

Tony texted to remind him to pick up the pizza, and Loki smiled.

**The End (for now)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, guys, for sticking with me through this little experiment of mine. It's your comments and your feedback that inspire me to write, so thank you, guys, for being so awesome. I LUV YOU GAIZ!!!!!!!ONE!!!
> 
> Keep an eye out for my next piece, _The Devil You Know._ ;)


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